


MnstrCutie's Kinktober 2019

by MnstrCutie



Category: Haikyuu!!, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Bloodplay, Breathplay, Cannibalism, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Food Play, Forced Feminization, Fucking Machine, Gangbang, Incest, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Lolicon, M/M, Masturbation, Monsterfucking, Multi, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Oviposition, Pet Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Selfcest, Sex Toys, Shotacon, Somnophilia, Sounding, Tentacle Sex, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Sex, Various AUs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-01-22 15:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnstrCutie/pseuds/MnstrCutie
Summary: My Kinktober prompts published in short (some of them lol) chapters. Relationships and characters mentioned in the chapters to avoid clogging the the tags too much
Comments: 30
Kudos: 456





	1. Student/Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Kaminari Denki/Midoriya Izuku, student!Kami & teacher!Deku

Denki kind of wanted to scream. He couldn’t believe that out of all the days in the week, out of all the trains in Japan, it was the train he took this morning that had to go and break down. Any other time he wouldn’t mind getting jammed up like this. Might even take the opportunity to chat up the busty brunette in the pencil skirt seated a few feet away. Though she looked like she wasn’t interested in anything other than getting the train to move or crushing the phone in her hands out of frustration at the delay in her schedule. Still...killer legs.

But Denki was feeling pretty frustrated himself. No, not like that. Er well, okay maybe a little but not because of the brunette. Though she was a beauty. No, Denki was upset because today marked the first day of high school for him and now he was going to be late and that would really just set him up for failure moving forward. 

It wasn’t that Denki was an academic. Actually his grades were kinda...abysmal, at least in most subjects. His English scores were pretty high. Especially his vocabulary. And he was pretty good at remembering technological milestones in history but wars and stuff kinda went in one ear and out the other. Regardless, he wasn’t all worked up about school itself. It was what was inside the school.

Or rather who was inside the school.

See unlike junior high school, UA promised Denki a chance to snag himself a front-row seat with THE Midoriya-sensei. The man was absolutely legendary around Musutafu; anyone between the ages of 13 and 18 knew of Midoriya-sensei and absolutely worshiped the terrazzo floors he walked on in his chocolate brown oxfords. Any teen capable of feeling lust (who had any semblance of good taste) had a thing for Midoriya.

Was Denki currently praying to every ancestor and deity on this world for the train to get struck by magical lightning to jumpstart it into moving and make him get to UA on time just so the boy can get a good desk near the front to appreciate his homeroom teacher’s gorgeous body up close? Yes. Yes, he was.

See, Midoriya-sensei wasn’t just a good-looking guy. He was like a...a succubus had sex with an angel and they made this delectable little cutie with a body that just begged to be used. Denki knew this because he’d seen the pictures sent from his friend Makoto, whose older brother had Midoriya as his teacher for one amazing year and had filled his phone’s photo album with shots of the man’s plush ass in form-fitting slacks bending over to grab a pen.

Oooh, and Denki’s favorite—the pic where Midoriya-sensei’s adorably hideous sweater vest rode up as he struggled to reach for the cord to the projector screen and a bright red jockstrap was revealed. Fuck, what Denki would have given to be there that day, close enough to see the thin fabric against the man’s tan freckled skin. The pictures in the camera roll right after that one had been of a flushed sensei with his hands bunched in the sweater vest, full of embarrassment as his students laughed and teased at him.

Denki wanted to know if that blush went all the way down. And if the nerdy teach’s freckles did too. Damn. He hadn’t really thought of himself as an ass man before—tits were more his thing up until his casual curiosity towards gay porn turned into a very intense interest in seeing cuties of all genders getting fucked senseless until they shivered in a pool of their own cum—but Midoriya-sensei’s in particular was just...perfect. 

And if it looked that good in photos, many of which were blurry or poorly angled or dimly lit (Makoto’s big brother wasn’t a photographer, that’s for sure) Denki was positive that it’d be even better in person.

Not that Denki cared solely about Midoriya’s tight, delicious, smackable ass! He wasn’t a pervert! He also liked the man’s thighs, his pretty curls, his gorgeous eyes, the scattering of freckles that made his slightly rounded cheeks seem even more cherubic, the fact that Midoriya was in his early thirties and yet could easily pass for one of those twinks on a barely legal site. Or maybe twunk was the correct term since Midoriya had some good muscles under all those dorky clothes. 

Denki nearly creamed his pants when he got a glimpse of thick muscular arms and a broad back when ink stains from a broken pen ruined a shirt. Fuck, the number of times Denki had touched himself to the grainy video of Midoriya-sensei exposing his back when he slipped out of his salmon-colored button-up. Denki had wanted to rip up that flimsy little white undershirt with his teeth and lick up Midoriya’s sweat and then—

Okay, when he focused on that stuff, it really did seem like Denki was only interested in his soon-to-be sensei because of his body. His sexy, sexy body. BUT that wasn’t the case. The stories that got passed down from the high schoolers weren’t just about how hot Midoriya was. Because he wasn’t just hot. 

He was also cute. And friendly. Kind. Patient. The kind of teacher who would find time in his day to talk one-on-one with the struggling students and help them out. The kind of teacher who punished the troublemakers when needed but was far more likely to search for the root of the problem and try to address it, giving attention or direction based on the individual student to create a better learning environment for everyone.

Not to mention he really went the extra mile to teach all his students what they needed to know to do well in both school and in life. So Denki was also looking forward to doing a little better in class and opening up his mind and whatnot. Which at this point was just a bonus. 

Though...actually, he might do worse since he’s probably gonna spend far too much class time thinking about fucking his sensei. On his desk, against the chalkboard, on the floor, on the roof of the building right after a lunch date confession—that’s right, he’s a romantic!

But you know, in order for him to get the chance to do that, he’s gonna have to make it to UA in the first place. On time.

...Denki did not make it on time. In fact, by the time he ran into the impressive building—not even taking a moment to absorb how massive and shiny and brilliant the place was—and stumbled to the right room on the right floor, he had exactly 6 and half minutes left of homeroom.

He flushed as the knocked on the door and ducked his head in mortification when Midoriya-sensei opened it and ushered him inside, the man hushing the other students when they “ooohed” at him. Fuck. He just wanted to sink into the floor. He couldn’t even meet Midoriya-sensei’s eyes, full of despair and embarrassment at his lateness. Curse his bad luck.

“Go ahead and take the empty seat next to Kirishima-kun over there, Kaminari-kun. I was just wrapping up my welcoming speech and giving everyone an idea of what we’ll be learning this year.” Denki trudged to his seat, only feeling slightly better when the spiky-haired redhead he was seated next to offered him a genuinely sympathetic smile and flashed him a thumbs-up.

“And Kirishima-kun,” Midoriya’s dulcet voice filled the air again, “if you could fill Kaminari-kun in on what he missed between classes? I’d really appreciate it and I’m sure he would too.”

“Y-yes, sensei!” Kirishima agreed, the tips of his ears as red as his hair. Denki wasn’t the only one with a crush, which surprised absolutely no one. He did his best to relax since he wasn’t getting yelled at but he was pretty disappointed to note that he didn’t have a good seat to see his sensei’s ass very well. And you know, he was still embarrassed that he screwed up his first impression with the man of his dreams (both romantic daydreams and nighttime wet ones.)

The last few minutes were pretty uneventful and Denki did his best to listen close while Midoriya-sensei instructed them on where to go for their next class before dismissing them. Kaminari was the last out, taking it a bit slower so he could apologize properly. Kirishima gave him another encouraging thumbs-up and said he’d wait just outside.

“H-hey, um, hi, sensei. I just wanted to explain and say sorry. I’m really not the type to be late but I have to take the train to get here since we live far away and it broke down not halfway over here so I ended up stuck on it for like ten minutes—” 

“Kaminari-kun, it’s—” 

“—and then I ran all the way to the gates and then I had to stop by the office to notify the attendance lady and then I tried to run fast to make it here but I was tired—”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

“—and I really never show up late, like I’m not a bad kid or anything and I know first days are important even though some kids say they aren’t and I’ve been really looking forward to—”

“Denki-kun!”

Denki’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click and he finally looked up from his shoes into Midoriya-sensei’s eyes. His teacher was actually a bit shorter than him, which was endearing. Green eyes were soft with understanding and a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay, Kaminari-kun. You’re fine. I’m not mad about your lateness and I understand that not all of my students have an easy commute. I know I sure didn’t back when I attended UA as a student. President Nedzu has been discussing plans with the school board and the local government about using some of our expansive campus grounds to make dorms this year to help some.” 

A bright beautiful smile was directed at Denki, “But I think it’s best that you just hurry off to your next class so you don’t keep Kirishima-kun or Takeda-sensei waiting. I’ll be sure to talk it over with ‘the attendance lady’—she’s miss Okomoto, by the way—and make sure your lateness isn’t marked down officially.” The man winked at him. Actually winked! Yeah, Denki was in love.

He thanked Midoriya profusely and quickly left to meet Kirishima and head to his next class.

———

Kirishima and him quickly hit it off and Denki was pleased to note that he not only got a great friend but his time spent in Midoriya’s class was probably the best of his whole life. His grades did indeed improve, he was making friends at his new school, and more importantly? Midoriya-sensei liked him. Like genuinely liked him. Granted, the guy liked everyone but Denki had been kinda vaguely worried for the first few weeks that his sensei actually did hold his lateness against him.

But he didn’t. In fact, Midoriya seemed to pay special attention to him. Maybe Denki was just reading into it too much, but it really felt like Midoriya looked at him more than others in the class. Checked up with him more frequently. Had longer tutoring sessions with him where he’d sit real close and talk softly right in Denki’s ears as he guided him towards the correct answers. 

Denki felt silly when he heard some of the other er, academically-challenged, kids talk about similar experiences with Midoriya-sensei like Mina and Kirishima and Satou. Sure Denki still had vivid fantasies about Midoriya-sensei but the man would always be unattainable for someone like him. 

He was just a hormonal teen. If sensei even liked guys, he’d probably go for someone older. Like, you know, another teacher or something. Hell, maybe he even had a partner already. Though he wasn't married and never talked of one.

It was okay though. Denki was content to just let himself dream. And masturbate like once a day. Or twice. Three times tops. Except for that day Midoriya came in feeling a bit under the weather. He looked so sweet with permanently flushed cheeks and parted lips. Denki may have thought a bit too long and hard about how warm his mouth must feel inside with the man’s slight fever and how that gravelly tone he used could have been from the result of Denki spending the previous night fucking his throat—

Denki uh...well, let’s just say he was doing his laundry a bit more frequently these days. 

But overall life was good. School was good. 

Until it wasn’t.

See, Denki wasn’t uh...let’s say...limiting himself to masturbating in the comfort of his own home. He wasn’t like an exhibitionist or anything! He just liked to mix things up a bit now and then. Get a little creative. Change the landscape, enjoy some new scenery as he tugged himself to completion. Make the curtains were drawn and the door FIRMLY locked and then went to town on the couch when his family was gone. Spraying fabric softener afterward, of course.

Rub one out on his spare pillow one day, stroke himself on his bean bag another. But uh, well, one day, he kinda got hard right at the end of a tutoring session with Midoriya and just had to...you know, take care of himself. In the bathroom. Which yeah, okay, sounded gross, but UA actually kept some pretty clean bathrooms for a high school.

And it wasn’t like Denki was getting off when there were other people around. His sessions were after school in one of the study rooms so most people were either home or at clubs or something. No one around. Plus the bathrooms were right next to the study rooms so he didn’t even have to awkwardly run with an erection through the halls in case there was someone around.

So here he was, fisting his cock and thinking about how Midoriya-sensei smelled—clean and fresh and masculine, crisp and just a bit warm, if warm was a scent? Denki couldn’t explain it well, he just knew that Midoriya smelled good and adult and Denki weirdly wanted to bury his face in his armpit and not-so-weirdly fuck the man’s thighs and cum all over them. 

Instead, he figured he could quickly fuck his hand and wash the evidence down the toilet in the stall before he grabbed his things and went home. Didn’t want to sit on the train with a hardon, after all, and his parents were lenient about the time he got home as long as it wasn’t really dark out.

“Fuck,” he said softly to himself, feeling safe enough to not muffle his mouth but not willing to go wild and be too loud, “so fucking sexy.” He tipped his head back, eyes closed as he pictured his sensei on his knees in front of him, coyly lapping just under the head of his cock where Denki’s finger teased.

He could picture it perfectly. Pushing against those sweet lips that so readily curved into a smile for him. “Open up, take me. Suck me off. Mmmmm.” He ran his other hand down to stroke the base, imagining one of Midoriya’s large strong hands was there instead to hold him steady while the man parted his lips and sunk down. Fuck. 

It wasn’t wet enough to keep up with the fantasy though and Denki spit in one palm as the other smoothed his precum around his tip. “Feels good,” he whispered, “so good at this. So good for me.” He moaned softly, losing himself in the vivid daydream.

“Kaminari-kun?”

That voice was so crisp and clear, seemed so real in that moment. Denki groaned and speed up his hand, “Mmmmfuck, love the way you say my name. But call me Denki, sensei. Getting close.” 

“K-KAMINARI-KUN!” 

Oh fuck, oh shitshitshit! The voice wasn’t in his head, that was real! Fuck, shit! That was ACTUALLY his sensei just outside the stall, sounding aghast and probably furious and oh holy fucking shitballs, Denki was fucking screwed. He hurried took his hands off his cock and through them upwards in surrender but he tripped on his pants and stumbled back into the stall door, which he apparently didn’t lock all the way because the fucking door opened.

It swung wide and Denki fell straight back onto the floor with his whole dick out and his bare ass on the cold tile, Midoriya-sensei staring down at him in shock. 

“Fuck! FUCK!! I mean, shit, I mean, dammit. G-goshdarn. I just, oh my god, oh my god, why the fuck am I still hard?! I’m so sorry, it’s not you. I mean this isn’t for you! I mean, I am hard because of you and I said, no, no—what the hell am I doing, I gotta deny it? Fuck! I mean, dang. Let me just,” Denki rambled incoherently, struggling to cover himself and pull his underwear and pants up and explain himself and stand all at the same time. To very little success.

He kept stumbling and it was uncomfortable and difficult to move with his pants around his ankles and his legs were practically jelly thanks to nerves and his erection was flagging now but he was still half-hard and he felt so gross and embarrassed and he really wanted to die like now, like right this second, just strike him down from above with lightning or something.

The gods denied his request. And to pour salt on the wound, they had Midoriya-sensei help him to his feet, the man bright red and trying actively to look anywhere that wasn’t Denki’s dick. Or ass. Fucking hell. And because Denki had the world’s most traitorous dick, the stupid thing had the gall to chub up when his teacher touched him, excited at the easy display of strength and chivalry. Denki must have brain damage, that’s the only thing that would explain this all.

He thought that might make a decent excuse too and went to say as much in what he hopes was a totally playful cool-customer kind of manner and not the desperate pathetic whimpers of a teen about to be kicked out of school and possibly throttled by a hot thirty-something-year-old man, when he noticed Midoriya glance down at his cock. 

Not Denki’s cock. His own. And then wide green eyes darted to Denki’s face in horror, pleading, and Denki thought that was kind of a good look, the pleading part, but he looked down anyway and fuck...sensei was hard. Not like, bursting out of his slacks, but there was a definite bulge there and as he stared—too dumb and shocked to look away—it started to get bigger. 

After a few seconds of just looking, Denki’s focus was broken by a muffled whimper. He snapped his head back up to see Izuku’s flushed face the man covering his mouth with a hand and tearing up.

“Oh, sensei,” Denki said, voice coming out in a condescending purr that he didn’t think he’d ever be capable of, “you’re so hard.” Midoriya shook his head and stepped back, shifting into the second open stall behind him. Denki followed, albeit not very gracefully with his constricted legs forcing him to shuffle forward. But he didn’t care. He felt like a predator now, stalking his prey. 

Midoriya kept moving back, letting out a surprised squeak when the toilet hit the back of the legs and he fell down onto it abruptly. “I-I-I wasn’t—didn’t, not—I-I-I-Kaminari-kun, you—”

“Ah, ah, ah, sensei. You heard me before,” Denki said lowly, closing the stall door and locking it firmly behind him this time, “call me Denki.”

Midoriya looked frightened now and he was notably trembling, “You can’t—! I, that—!”

“Senseeeei~,” Denki drew out the title and felt a rush of heat fill him when Midoriya flinched. The blond felt like a legend, a god amongst mortals, at this moment. 

“D-Denk-ki-kun, we can’t—” Denki gripped himself, fully hard once more and guided his cock right in front of Midoriya’s face.

“Sensei...Suck. Me. Off.”

A shaky moan and then Midoriya’s head was moving forward and FUCK! Hot, hot, hot, his mouth was so fucking hot and wet and silky, Midoriya took him down to the root, no problem, the only indication the man felt anything, the tiny moan he released and the way those tears glistening in his eyes finally slipped down those soft rounded cheeks.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Denki breathed, “you actually did it. Fuck, you feel so good. I, I’m not gonna last at all, shit, I’m gonna spill down my teacher’s throat.” Midoriya responded with a deeper moan, tightening his throat around Denki’s cock right after like he was trying to get Denki to blow his load faster, like he was desperate to get a mouthful of cum and the teen couldn’t control himself.

He gripped Midoriya’s head tight, keeping him pressed down with the man’s nose mashed just shy of painfully to Denki’s golden blond pubes as the boy’s vision whited out and he emptied his balls. Denki let out a ragged breath as tears from the pleasure coursing through him made his own eyes wet. 

“Ohhhhh, yeahhh, this mouth is mine. Swallow it, sensei, swallow it all. Fuck yes,” Denki praised as he finished and—much more gently this time—guided Midoriya’s head off of his cock. Milky-colored saliva which Denki realized was a mixture of his own cum and his teacher’s spit kept the man’s lips attached to Denki’s dick in a thin trail before gravity broke it apart. 

Midoriya looked wrecked; blushing powerfully, eyes already starting to tinge red at the rims while fresh tears began to dry on his warm freckled cheeks, mouth still open to show the pool of cum that rested on his tongue before he swallowed it down with a shaking fist pressed hard to his throbbing cock. 

There was already a wet stain blooming on the front of his slacks and a pang of need came from Denki’s cock as he realized the man had actually cum in his pants just from getting his face-fucked for a handful of seconds. Whatever embarrassment Denki might have had about cumming so quick was rendered null and void at the realization that he’d gotten Midoriya-sensei to cum without even really touching the man. Sensei was just…

“Such a whore.”

Midoriya whined at the statement but didn’t deny it, blinking up at him and sniffling.

Denki brushed back the man’s curls, bending down a bit awkwardly to kiss his forehead, “It’s okay, sensei. I’ll keep it a secret that you’re a masochistic little slut.”

“D-Denki!”

“Just let me keep you all to myself, okay?” the blond asked, though it was clear his words were more a formality than anything at this point. No way in hell he was letting anyone else touch this beautiful man. Midoriya-sensei was going to be all his. The man nodded and Denki pressed another kiss to his lips, biting back the urge to grimace at the taste of his own cum. 

“Good. Now then, how about a lunch date tomorrow? You and me, on the rooftop. I’ll make us some bentos.” See? Totally romantic. If Denki played his cards right, he might just end up keeping his beloved sensei to himself for many years to come.


	2. Cop/Civilian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Toyomitsu Taishiro|Fatgum/Kirishima Eijirou, cop!Kiri & civilian! Fatgum

“I told ya, I didn’t swing first,” drawled a tired voice and Eijirou lifted his head up from the desk to check out the people that entered the lobby as Eijirou was on his way to drop off the paperwork he finally got finished with. Well, that, and see if he could sweet-talk their squad leader into letting him go on patrol for the last few hours he was on shift. He loathed being locked up inside hunched over his desk when he could at the very least be driving around. 

Made him stir crazy just sitting and staring at page after page of reports and files with the occasional coffee break or walk across the room to hand over something to one of the detectives. He’d much rather be out on the streets, feet on the pavement and eyes on the lookout for trouble. Not that liked trouble, of course; a quiet day in Musutafu was a good one, but he felt more...well, useful, out and about. 

He could stop in and check on the local shops, maybe help a lost kid find their way back to their parents. And if he got the call to go and break up a fight or help the heroes clean up the grime in the city than that was what he would do. 

Sure he preferred the action of chasing and fighting real criminals—and even now, graduated from the Musutafu Police Academy and nearing 25, a part of him wished he’d gone the hero route himself—but at the end of the day, Eijirou was a proud police officer and a pretty damn good one too, if he said so himself. He helped keep the citizens of this great city safe and sound. And that was really all he ever wanted to do.

“I heard you, big guy, but you still gotta make a full statement. You know the rules, Fat,” Officer Tomoka said, her face sympathetic, “I’ll send you off to get some grub and rest when we’re done...Matter of fact—OI, Officer Kirishima! You finished with that stack you got from Jensen?”

Eijirou jogged over to his fellow officer and the tall, well-built blond beside her who was standing with a hand covering his stomach and looking absolutely miserable. Something about him was almost familiar but Eijirou doesn’t remember meeting him before. He offered the man a polite smile before turning his attention to Tomoka. “Yeah. Just wrapped up. Was gonna see if Hayashi would let me patrol for a bit.”

“Yeah, forget that. He’s in a bad mood anyway, he’ll just say no.”

Eijirou grimaced slightly and his shoulders drooped. If he had dog ears, they’d be hanging morosely in disappointment. “Damn.”

“It is what it is,” Tomoka said, “But I got something for you. Need you to take this guy’s statement, the routine stuff. After that, though, since I know you’re chomping at the bit to go outside, you can escort him home.” A loud gurgle punctuated her words and she let out a bark of laughter as the tall man beside her gave a look of apology and embarrassment. 

“Or to the nearest ramen place,” Tomoka amended good-naturedly. She nudged the blond towards Eijirou with her elbow and gave the redhead a nod. “Gotta meet-up with my partner and finish up downtown. Thanks, Ei!” And with that, she jogged off.

“...I don’t think ya ever actually agreed to nothin’,” the blond noted and Eijirou flashed him a smile, more friendly this time now that he was sure he wasn’t dealing with an offender. 

“Yeah, well that’s Tomoka-san for you. It seems like you know her pretty well,” Eijirou noted and gestured over to his desk, “‘S just over here, by the way. It’ll take me a sec to dig out the right form.” He and the guy—Fat, apparently, which was a pretty strange name considering the guy looked absolutely ripped—sat down at either side of his desk and Eijirou set about finding the paperwork he needed and filling out the basic parts. 

“Oh, me and her go way back. I know allll about the way she is,” Fat said and Eijirou quirked an eyebrow at him and gave him a teasing smile.

“High school sweethearts, huh?”

That got a good laugh from the man and Eijirou was pleased to note that his laugh was just as endearing as the man’s accent. Despite looking like the poster boy for a mixed martial arts gym, the guy had a very easy-going manner about him that matched Eijirou’s well. Though the guy did seem like he was a bit tired and starving because his stomach chose then to make another loud protest.

“Nah. I ain’t exactly of the feminine persuasion, Red.”

“Red?” Eijirou asked, before tapping his chest and putting on a face of faux concern, “Pretty sure this uniform says ‘Officer Kirishima.’ It did when I put it on this morning.”

Fat laughed again, deep and full, before giving a roguish smile. “Well, I wasn’t there with you this mornin’, Red, but if you’re already gonna be taking me ta dinner, you might as well keep me overnight. I make a mean breakfast and I can definitely help you put on your uniform nice and slow.” Was...was this guy flirting with him? 

Eijirou coughed at the thought and the man’s grin grew, his eyes dancing with mirth and maybe something else. Feeling his face heat, Eijirou cleared his throat and focused on the paperwork. “R-right. Well, ah, so care to explain what Tomoka brought you in for? And er, name. I’ll need your full name.”

“Gotta have something to scream later, right Red?” the man asked with a playful wink. 

“Sir!” Eijirou hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else heard. Or was looking at him and his no doubt painfully red face. 

“Oooh, like the sound of that,” the blond teased, but he sat back in his chair and eased off a bit. “Name’s Toyomitsu Taishiro. You can call me Fat, though. Most people do on account o’ my Quirk.”

“Quirk?”

“Yeah. I’m usually a lot bigger than this. Taller too. My Quirk is Fat Absorption, so I tend to get as big as I can. Helps me do the whole intimidation thing at Club Betten. I’m a bouncer.”

Club Betten? THAT’S where Eijirou knows him from. He goes there every so often when his friends drag him out on the weekends if he’s free and can afford the next-day hangover. This guy in front of him must be the big bouncer he sees at the doors. And damn, was he big. The guy was at least 8 foot, if not taller, and built like a giant matryoshka doll.

Eijirou may or may not have gotten a bit hot under the collar the first time he saw that massive man. And maybe uncomfortably got into his taxi one night, trying to not make his erection obvious when he saw Fat shove three grown men who were getting too handsy with some ladies up against a wall and scare them off. With just. One. Arm. Manly as hell. 

The redhead cleared his throat, trying not to let his surprise and his interest in the man show on his face. He’s pretty sure he failed. Regardless, he was able to finish up his paperwork with limited teasing and flirting from Fat and soon enough they were facing each other across a table at a ramen shop, Eijirou now in civvies, watching in amazement as Fat packed away three ten-pound bowls of the Beef Deluxe ramen without even breaking into the food sweats.

Eijirou did not bring Fat over to his place that night. But he did end up getting drinks with the man and taking the large inebriated man back to Fat’s apartment, where the blond sobered up real quick, pressing Eijirou against the front door as soon as it was closed and asking if he’d ever been fucked by a guy before.

And, being a good cop and an honest man, Eijirou confessed that he had and very, very, very much wanted to be again. By Fat. Preferably right now. It took all the men’s combined willpower, frayed as it was by the heat between them as their hard bodies slid against each other, to stumble into the older man’s bedroom while ripping off each other’s clothes.

Pushing him down onto a double-king sized bed, Fat absolutely loomed over Eijirou and the redhead let out a moan, thinking of how much bigger and stronger the man could be. As if reading his mind, Fat settled over him with a smirk. “You should see me with a few more meals in me.”

“Fuck me, please,” Eijirou whispered and Fat licked his lips.

“That an order, officer?” Eijirou wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and pulled him down, making their hips meet as they rolled into each other.

“Damn right it is.” 

Fat let out a curse and pressed more of his weight down on Eijirou and connected their mouths in a deep kiss, the familiar taste of beer and broth mixing with something new and different that they both groaned at; the taste of each other. 

Eijirou was pretty sure he had a rule about not dating someone who came into the station but it wasn’t like Fat was a perp and if he kissed this good and felt this nice against him, Eijirou didn’t think any rule mattered more than the one he made up in his head just now that said Fat wasn’t allowed to leave this room until Eijirou was fucked senseless. 

A solid rule. One he didn’t even have to inform Fat about, as the man had already found the lube Eijirou kept by the bed and was coating thick fingers in it. He even took the time to warm them with his digits to make things easier on the redhead. Who was honestly falling a little in love at this point.

And gods, did those fingers feel good inside him. Just the right length to nudge his good spots, moving in slow circles and quick scissoring motions to get him open fast but relatively painless to prevent the men from waiting too long. Still, it didn’t stop Eijirou from squirming, desperate to feel more, get Fat in deeper.

His eyes were scrunched shut tight as he tried to fuck himself greedily back on the other’s fingers, his teeth biting into his own bottom lip to try and muffle his noises in case his neighbors were awake and listening in. Only to let out a surprised yelp when he felt the man bite down teasingly on the swell of his chest.

Eijirou’s eyes snapped open to see Fat grinning down at him like a wolf eyeing up it’s latest meal. 

“Come on now, Officer. I want to see those pretty eyes of yours when I make you cum on just my fingers,” the man playfully remarked but his eyes glittered dangerously. Eijirou shivered, imagining what the look would be like with the man at his full size and height, towering above him, so heavy that the pushed Eijirou into the bed without even trying.

...Okay, so he might kinda sorta want to make this last so he can feel what it’s like to be under Fat in his other form. It certainly doesn’t help that Fat is confident and charming and impossibly good with his hands. Eijirou moans but is quick to not let the man think he has the higher ground. 

With a small sigh of displeasure at losing the feeling of fullness, Eijirou pushes Fat off and when the man appears like he’s going to apologize, the redhead switches their positions. Now Fatgum is under him and while distracting him with a kiss that’s all bite and maybe a little bit of blood, Eijirou fumbles for the handcuffs in his nightstand—a gift his last boyfriend had gotten him but they hadn’t used before the breakup—and used it to chain Fat to the bedrail behind him.

The look of shock on his face was priceless and it only got better when Eijirou sank down on his cock seconds later, making Fatgum gasp out and jerk his knees shut around Eijirou’s hips, thrusting up rough once before regaining control of himself and keeping his body still. But Eijirou didn’t want that. He wanted the man bucking up into him like an animal, helpless to chase the pleasure he offered. 

Which was a little difficult considering that one thrust nearly made Eijirou see stars. Fat filled him so well and if he was this big like this, Eijirou was confident that his fat form would nearly break him. And that idea made the officer’s own cock dribble wet and hot onto the trim abs in front of him.

Eijirou dropped his hips down again and again, gaining speed as he got used to the intrusion and doing his best to grin through the fading pain and rising pleasure. He grunted and groaned, shifting back to prop himself with one hand on Fat’s thigh as he bounced, his other hand jerking himself with more rhythm then real finesse. 

Fat let out a low moan like a wounded man and rolled his hips up into the motions. “Fuck, Red, ya gonna kill me at this point. Sighta ya on my cock alone is a fucking death sentence.”

Eijirou laughed, though it was rough and short as sweat poured off his brow and he fucked himself down on that dick harder. 

“No dying on me. I only just got a taste for you. No way in hell I’m letting this go,” emphasizing his point by tightening around Fatgum and making him hiss.

Fat smiled and his hands clenched around the bed frame as he channeled all his energy into his lower half, wrists straining painfully in the cuffs as he braced himself and pistoned his hips up. It drew delicious hot, heavy noises from both of their throats as they pushed closer and closer to orgasm. 

What finally sealed the deal for Eijirou was when he locked eyes with Fat and the man lifted his head up with pleading eyes, searching for a kiss. The redhead leaned down and connected their lips in a sweet soulful kiss. Despite all the passion and the obvious physical attraction, Eijirou really yearned for the soft affection of a romance as well and he mentally crossed his fingers that Fat was looking for the same thing. 

With one last hard thrust, Fatgum came with a muffled moan and Eijirou pulled away, giving himself a few more tugs until he came with a silent shudder. He collapsed forward into Fat, who let out a slight wheeze and gave him a reproachful look until Eijirou sheepishly rolled off him and snagged the keys to unlock the cuffs.

Fat rubbed his wrists and shook them slightly but he gave Eijirou a light kiss on the cheek before smiling, “Ya know...normally the cuffs appear a couple months in at least.”

Eijirou blushed, “Ah, I just—I mean I should have checked with—”

“I ain’t complaining, Red,” Fatgum said, “but ya bet that firm ass a your’s I’m putting ‘em on you tomorrow. After breakfast of course. If...if ya don’t mind me staying over.”

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t letting you go?”

“Keeping me all to yourself, Officer Kirishima?”

“Damn right....how long does it take for you to bulk back up, by the way?”

“A good three weeks or so. Why?”

“I got some vacation time, is all. Looking forward to using it with you.”

“Me too, Red. Me too.”


	3. Alpha/Omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Shinsou Hitoshi/Midoriya Izuku, Alpha!Shinsou & Omega!Izuku

Shinsou hadn't really ever thought of secondary genders as something important to him. Growing up, he hadn't thought there was much difference between betas and alphas and omegas in terms of strength because there were always outliers that went against the "norms;" short thin alphas who could barely lift their backpacks, omegas built like a brick house. 

And in a world with so many different Quirks and unique applications of them, it made sense that somewhere there was a mutant Quirk beta who boasted fangs as sharp as any alpha or who could produce the kind of lust-inducing pheromones an omega could. So why bother falling back on traditional roles? Humans had evolved far past that, years ago. 

The only real thing that separated the genders were ruts and heats and even those could easily be regulated with the right suppressants and keeping a good schedule. At least, that was what Shinsou had believed at first. Then he'd gotten into UA and realized that there might, in fact, be something to all the drama and discussions on alphas and omegas. 

Namely because his training with Aizawa had exceeded their usual two-hour session and he'd dragged his sore body into the showers late at night, hellbent on washing off the sweat of a hard fight and then just collapsing into bed for a long sleep (or short coma, he didn't particularly care at this point) and Shinsou had stumbled into the room to find Midoriya fucking himself with a metallic water bottle and crying. 

Now there were several things wrong with that picture: 

1.) A metallic water bottle is not a dildo. It wasn't made for insertion into one's ass, even if that ass was slick and capable of stretching obscenely around the wide base. 

2.) The showers were a public place. Even though it was reasonable to think that with the late hour, no one might enter the room to see a boy sobbing with a large object halfway up his ass, it was better to do that sort of thing inside the comfort of one's dorm room. 

3.) The crying. See, Midoriya was the type to cry a lot, often, so it would make sense if when Shinsou entered that the other boy began to cry from embarrassment. 

But that wasn't the case because he was actively sobbing before Shinsou entered and from the look of pain and discomfort on his face even as he continued to fuck himself, Shinsou was pretty sure Midoriya had not only been crying for some time now but was also crying tears of frustration and not mortification. 

There were probably a great deal many more things WRONG with the situation. The biggest issue, however, was that Shinsou's hindbrain, the basest part of himself as an alpha, was focusing more on the fact that Midoriya smelled very very RIGHT, as in delicious and fuckable. 

As in, Shinsou wanted to yank out that pitiful excuse for a makeshift phallus and sink his cock so deep inside this pretty little omega's sinful ass that Midoriya tasted cum in the back of his throat. And Shinsou had never experienced something like this. 

Because he hadn't really thought the secondary genders to be all that important. Because he knew his Quirk already made most classify him as a villain before he even opened his mouth. Because he hadn't had many (read: any) friends since he got his Quirk, let alone romantic partners and--cheesy at is was--he sort of liked the idea of falling in love a little later in life the way his parents did, not meeting and having him until they were well into their thirties. 

Lonely as it might have been initially, at that age he hoped to be stable and a decent hero to boot, so it seemed like a good enough time to settle down with someone. The thing is, when the Sports Festival occurred, he did develop a few friends. In multiple classes even. People who said hello and waved in the halls and wanted to sit beside him at the lunch table. 

And then he'd been moved into the 1A hero course and he got some steadier, more emphatic friends. People who studied with him and brought him on trips to the mall and wanted to play video games or just talk with him about anything and everything for hours on end. And specifically, he met Midoriya. Or well, re-met him, as a classmate this time. 

And Midoriya was the kind of guy that piqued his interest in romance and sexuality, the kind of guy that Shinsou wouldn't mind changing his plans for and maybe attempting to date right after graduation, simply because Shinsou didn't think he could make it any longer than 3 years without confessing that he loved all the beautiful contradictions the boy was made of. His quiet strength and his loud actions. His intelligence and his foolish recklessness. His humble heroism.

It was all so damn charming. And impossible to ignore, just as it was impossible to ignore how cute his face was, how pretty his eyes as they shone with admiration, how gentle his voice could be when the two of them were alone, how his body was the perfect mix of hard and soft and how Shinsou wanted to feel every inch of it with his mouth and teeth and tongue and cock. 

Gods, he'd had a dream about fucking Midoriya's armpit once! That wasn't even a fetish of his! He didn't even HAVE a fetish! But if it was Midoriya...well...he couldn't really see a fetish that didn't suddenly become tolerable or even sexy when the boy was his fantasy partner. 

So all of that, coupled with Midoriya begging to be filled and fucked right there on the cool tile of the shower floor while warm water trickled down his damp hair and he tried his best to angle his water bottle into his prostate and trick his mind into thinking it was a knotted cock, meant that Shinsou went borderline feral incredibly quick. 

The soreness and weakness of his body was rendered null and void as he threw himself bodily to the ground and crawled to cover Midoriya's body with his own. The shower blasted his back as he crouched over the omega, growling and salivating at the chance to fuck him, to mark his lithe neck with a claim no one could erase or dispute, and Shinsou hardly registered the way his clothes were drenched and glued themselves to his skin. 

All he cared about was grinding himself on Midoriya, of pressing his hips down to rub against that adorable little leaking cocklet. Get closer to drag his tongue and canines against Midoriya's lips, lapping up his moans and the tiny tangy drops of blood that rose up from the thin cuts his fierce actions had accidentally produced. 

He was so fucking hard, so fucking horny. So needy to fill this omega up. He wrenched out the bottle and tried to replace it with his cock, sharp claws digging in painfully to Midoriya's hips when his own pants got in the way. 

And the omega just moaned, yanking at the constricting fabric with a strength as scary as it was arousing. The feeling of his hand on the hot hard flesh of Shinsou cock made him snarl and push forward, clumsily shoving it into the grip as Midoriya whined and tried to angle him inside. Shinsou was too far gone by then, not capable of thinking of anything past fucking hard and cumming deep. 

It almost didn't even matter that the head of his dick kept missing Midoriya's hole: it just made Shinsou growl louder, his teeth cutting up his own bottom lip now as he pushed his hips forward with more power as if that was enough to get the omega pregnant. 

Thankfully, Midoriya had a bit more sense than the alpha did at the moment and was able to angle their lower halves properly to get that cock buried deep. And it certainly did. As soon as his head caught that slick hole, Shinsou shoved himself in as far as he could. 

Shinsou's hips pumped at impossible speeds, his mouth pressing sloppy wet kisses and bites to his little mate's teasing neck. Mate, mate, mate, that's right, Midoriya was his mate, he needed to knot his mate, impregnate him, fuck him until they couldn't move anymore. 

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him so good, he was made for this, he was made for Shinsou's cock, he DESERVED this, he deserved it for being so cute and sexy and smart and strong all the time and gods, did Shinsou feel lucky to get him underneath him, to own him like this. Forever, with a bond mark. 

He huffed, the area where his knot formed feeling tight. Nearly as tight as Midoriya's pretty hole as it spasmed and fluttered around him. Sucking a harsh mark right into the omega's scent gland to make himself a little bruised target to sink his teeth into soon, Shinsou began to grind the growing knot against Midoriya's entrance as he unknowingly began growling like a beast. 

"Fucking take it, take it like the cute little breeding bitch you are, my mate, my perfect slut, wanted you for so long, gonna fill you, gonna breed omega, knock you up full of the next generation of heroes just like you want, like you've been wanting since you presented. That's right, you want to be a dam just as bad as you want to be a hero, right? You've been waiting for the perfect alpha to take you just like this, on the cold hard floor, slamming into you again and again, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!" 

"HITOSHI!!!" the omega sobbed and his cocklet bounced against his stomach, spraying cum wildly. It was a thin liquid now from how many times the omega had been brought over the edge--not that Shinsou had enough brain cells to have been counting--and he realized with a deep rumble of pleasure that the boy was squirting for him now. 

The sight and sound of the pretty boy achieving such pleasure, shamelessly turning into a filthy puddle of cum and slick and desperation as he chanted Shinsou's name was enough to bring the boy to the edge. And just in time, as this last shivering prolonged orgasm relaxed the omega's tight ass just enough for one more push to drive that knot in and lock them together. 

With a roar like a panther and his hands slamming down hard enough to make a dull ache reverberate up his arms, Shinsou bit down on the gland he nuzzled at and let go. Finally, blessedly, filling Izuku as much as he could with cum. His cum. Marking Izuku as his just as his teeth did on the boy's neck. 

He breathed heavily, idly lapping up the trickles of blood on Izuku's neck as his hips slowed to a gentle rocking, waves of cum milked out of him in slow bursts for a full minute and crooning when Izuku whined about the way his stomach was starting to feel too full. 

"...Hi...hit...oshi," came the broken, raspy voice of a boy who screamed himself hoarse and then some. 

Still more 'alpha' rather than 'person' at this point, Shinsou could only lick up the salty dried tears from his mate's face and humming. "Mine." 

A sigh, fond and soft, followed by a shaky but tender hand carding through his wet hair making Shinsou's eyes feel heavy. 

"Yeah...yours, Hitoshi. All yours...my alpha."


	4. Omega/Omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Haikyuu!!  
Relationship: Kozume Kenma/Hinata Shouyou

Shouyou and Kenma were a bit of an odd couple. Not only were they on rival teams when playing on the court, but they were damn near polar opposites. Shouyou was loud and vibrant and had a boundless energy that disrupted everything he touched; he was like a little orange and black volcano erupting with loud "gwahhs!" and burning up everyone who made contact with him with his sheer brilliance. Everyone he met became a friend at some point or another and it was rare to not see him launching himself at someone for an enthusiastic hug or grasping a person's hand as he vibrated with excitement.

Whereas Kenma was quiet and shy, content to melt into the background and keep to himself. He preferred video games to people in most cases and shied away from physical contact (especially when it was prolonged) from nearly everyone save for his friends at Nekoma and his boyfriend. And even then, he wasn't so much eager for physical contact with them as he was tolerant of their own need and enjoyment of it. He wasn't prone to getting worked up over things like a free meat bun or a chance to spike.

But together, Kenma and Shouyou brought out something good in one another. Kenma tempered Shouyou, reigned him in when needed with a single look or a soft touch to his arm. Shouyou encouraged Kenma to step outside of his comfort zone and experience the world in a different way. They were better off having known one another and they could both honestly say that they were happiest when they were together.

Kenma rediscovered a passion for volleyball and competition thanks to Shouyou, too, and that was something that would make his last year on the Nekoma team that much better once the third years graduated and he moved up. The two teens had grown far more as individuals thanks to the positive influences they had on each other than they ever could have alone, in Kenma's opinion.

And of course, it wasn't like Shouyou and Kenma had nothing in common. They shared a love of volleyball (as tiring as it was for the older boy to keep up with the stamina freak) and video games despite the fact that Shouyou didn't care about anything except for Pokémon and button-mashing his way to something resembling success in fighting games. They both enjoyed movie nights and shared a soft spot for cats. And the biggest similarity of all? They were both omegas.

That was probably where most people found a lot of confusion in when Shouyou and Kenma first starting dating; it wasn't very common that two omegas became romantic partners. Omegas for the most part were tactile and nurturing so it wasn't as if they didn't become good friends or even share heats together in a platonic way, soothing each other with familiar soft scents and gentle hushes as they rode out powerful waves of lust and the telltale warmth that spread from head to toe. 

But dating? Well, it wasn't like there was much prejudice against the concept itself but few people saw it as reasonable simply because they'd all grown up hearing the same thing over and over. That alphas were meant for omegas and vice versa. Betas tended to stick with betas but it wasn't as if they didn't find love and comfort in those of other secondary genders because betas had the unique ability of being universally compatible. They might not exude powerful pheromones like omegas and alphas could but they were able to adapt to better suit their partner's needs; it was part of why there were so many of them to begin with.

Alphas and omegas had fewer numbers but greater strengths. Omegas with their increased fertility rates and their ability to soothe and even sedate others if necessary. Alphas with their greater stamina and might, their powerful Voice ability letting them force enemies into submission or prevent others from acting in ways that could harm themselves or their pack. And of course, heats and ruts complemented one another well and guaranteed to be fruitful if contraceptive measures were not taken. Because of this, omegas craved being stuffed. They naturally gravitated towards alphas and the knots they promised or betas, who could at the very least fill them better than a small omega cocklet could.

Despite this, Shouyou and Kenma had a very active and very satisfied sex life. They alternated who topped and frequently spent heats together, often triggering one another's cycle by sharing the same massive nest and drowning in their mixed scents of arousal and need. Living in different cities, it wasn't always simple to visit of course but that was nothing a few long video chats and some toys couldn't help. Today, however, they were both at Kenma's and eager to try out a new purchase they'd made recently. Though they loved each other madly and didn't want to add an alpha into their relationship, they did have to make use of strap-ons more often than not during heats because their bodies were craving something thick and heavy and hard.

But it did make them competitive and even downright combative whenever their heat cycles matched. They fought over who would get to bottom viciously and though they always made it work and even held a particular fondness for the slightly deeper bite marks and bruised they left on one another at the end of it all, they decided they'd needed to invest in something that could please both of them at once. Meaning that currently, Shouyou and Kenma were in their combined nest with a discreet black box in between them.

"So, I know it's good cuz we can both use it together but I mean, the knot part...that can only be used by one of us at a time, right?" Shouyou asked, finally giving into his curiosity and picking up the box to open it up. Inside was a wide double-sided dildo, with an ovular shape in the middle meant to mimic the shape and size of an average knot.

"Yes? And? We'll take turns."

"But who's going first?" Shouyou asked, a bit more pointedly. Oh. Right. Well, Kenma didn't want to be selfish. And the idea of Shouyou's pretty little hole being stretched tight and wide around that knot was...ah, but at the same time, he was desperate for a good sizable cock to fill him. Shouyou's cocklet was the cutest he'd ever seen and the toys he had were nice but...a real knot like that? Connected to his boyfriend no less? That just sounded too damn good. Well. Fuck.

"How about we just...use it and see? Neither of us are in heat right now so it shouldn't be too bad. And the next time we sync up, we'll figure something out I'm sure," Kenma said, striving to seem nonchalant and calm but he couldn't help the way his ass clenched around nothing in anticipation or how he'd leaned forward to unconsciously get closer to scent his partner's arousal. The nature of their relationship was pretty equal, all things considered, and they both took pleasure in making the other feel good whether they topped or bottomed. Though privately, Kenma liked to think that being a bit older made him better at taking Shouyou apart. Probably because Shou was just so fucking cute taking cock. 

...He might have actually already made a mental decision about who'd be taking the knot. But Shouyou agreed regardless and soon enough they were languidly kissing as they each trailed their thin fingers in the slick dripping from their holes to wet their balls and the sheets below. Sitting face to face like this, with their legs slightly tangled together and their wrists protesting the odd angles as fingertips rubbed taints and holes, was the kind of thing they both knew would never happen with anyone else.

No matter what some people thought about two omegas in a relationship or how badly their bodies craved knots more warm and real than the silicone one they purchased, Kenma was sure no alpha or beta on Earth could ever hold a candle to how good Shou made him feel. Inside and out. He purred into his boyfriend's mouth, Shou harmonizing with his own higher-pitched purr that made Kenma's chest swell with affection even as his cock twitched with arousal. He was pretty sure that if he had a tail it would be curling lazily in the air now as he became drunk of the pleasure of their scents mingling. Sunshine and amber mixing with his own lavender and vanilla.

Kenma let his free hand pat the bed until he found their new toy and gripped it, ending the kiss reluctantly in order to guide the tip of one end into himself as Shouyou whined about the kiss ending. The blond laughed and nudged his boyfriend, who opened his eyes to glare (pout really) before he noticed the toy and eagerly gripped the other side to press it to his own entrance with a sweet blush. He was always excited when it came to sex but somehow still embarrassed enough to pink up. Kenma thought it was adorable. Telling Shouyou that would only rile him up more though so he kept it to himself. For now at least. If he teased him later, well.

They both sighed as their toy eased its way inside them, Shouyou already wriggling and jerking his hips to get it deeper. "Impatient," Kenma muttered to himself before bringing their lips together again. He gently pushed at Shouyou's shoulders to guide the boy to lay partially on his side and partially on his back. Kenma took a moment to simply stare down at the flushed redhead, enjoying how soft and open he was below him before he gripped the toy and mirrored Sho's position. They might not be in heat but it wasn't like either of them wanted to just lay there like this. 

Shouyou's hands grasped Kenma's and pulled the older boy closer with a soft moan, the toy slipping further inside them both. Kenma gripped Shouyou tight with a pleasantly surprised gasp at how well they toy fit inside both of them. With the angle, he couldn't see much of it but it felt like it nestled inside him with just the right amount of pressure against his walls. Stretching him nicely but without the pain. Shouyou was a bit of a size queen, on the other hand, and quite liked the sort of burning tingly stretch. But he was also naturally tighter than Kenma so a toy like this worked out pretty well all things considered. 

"Mmm, Kennnn, it feels good. So _deep_."

"Glad you like it, Shou, it is pretty nice isn't it? It'll get nicer, though," Kenma promised, angling his hips and planting his feet to push himself against his lover hard. Despite not being fond of exhausting himself in most physical situations Kenma always had plenty of energy in the bedroom. It was hard not to, with the delicious scent of his lover surrounding him and their cocklets and asses leaking messily. Shou's flushed chest heaving when he gave in completely to the pleasure, the sounds that made Kenma embarrassed but all the more turned on when they fell from his own mouth.

"KEnmaaa," Shouyou's voice broke, legs cutely kicking out (and nearly smacking into Kenma's chest in the process.) Kenma almost wanted to laugh but Shou mimicked his previous action and he lost the air in his lungs. Oh. Fuck. It was like Shouyou was...fucking him. But with a nice thick cock that dragged wonderfully against his good spots. Soon, they were moaning out loud and driving themselves back, trying to fuck themselves on the toy while pushing it further into the other, both intent on making their partner cum first. Kenma didn't think he'd feel quite so generous if they were both in heat right now but it didn't matter. What he wanted now was to push that hefty knot inside his love and watch Shou fall apart around it.

"That's it, that's it! Right there, good, good. Yes! _Cmoncmoncmon_, come on!!" Shouyou babbled out. Kenma felt his heart rate spike as he caught sight of Shouyou's face, his beautiful brown eyes taking on an amber hue as he squirmed on the bed. His hands left Kenma's and the pudding-haired boy nearly complained but Shouyou wormed his leg around Kenma's hips and then dug into it—rather painfully, if he was being honest—and forced himself up into a sitting position before falling down on top of Kenma. It knocked the air out of Kenma and the toy bent awkwardly between them, the squelching noise of their slick around the silicone somehow louder like this but it just heightened everything.

The knot of the toy was now the only part of it that wasn't deep inside one of them and it pressed up teasingly against their wet holes. Kenma gripped Shou in a tight hug, thrusting up with renewed determination as the boy panted in his ear. Some of his own hair was in his mouth and Shou's was already sticking messily to his face with sweat. It was perfect. Ungracefully spitting out hair, Kenma nibbled on Shou's bottom lip and sucked it into his own mouth, grinding up powerfully into the other. He cried out with Shouyou when their hips finally became flushed, knowing that the knot had finally pushed itself into his boyfriend. Fuck, he could even feel the flutter of Izuku's hole as he clenched around the thick knot.

The sensation was intoxicating and thrilling. It made a rush of slick push out of Kenma as he tightened his hold on his boyfriend and ground his cocklet on the boy's warm skin as he achieved release. Shouyou keened and came then too, slick and sweet-smelling omegan cum practically shooting out of him with the force of his orgasm. Shouyou whined at the overstimulation, unused to having a hard knot pressed inside of him for this long. The other knotted toys they had were inflatable and normally Kenma was eager to deflate it the thing and shove it inside himself. But now Kenma just didn't want to move. Like this, with their bodies so close and Shou stuffed, it was almost like Kenma was...his alpha. 

Which was stupid and pointless and Kenma never _ever_ wanted to give up being an omega, didn't want to ever feel like he'd let himself become something he truly didn't want to be but still, it was...sort of nice. To entertain the idea of him satisfying his partner so thoroughly, that Shou might even become pregnant from this.

But as soon as Shou started to sniff, tears welling up from the strange over-fullness of being stuck on a knot, Kenma was pulling away and drawing on the last of his strength to pull the double-ended dildo out of himself and then ease it out of his partner by gently rubbing at Shouyou's pink aching hole and whispering encouragement for the other to relax.

"Good, Shou. Don't force it. Just relax and I'll help you get it out. Shh. Shhh. You're doing so well, love. So good."

Shouyou whimpered but dutifully focused on listening to the directions Kenma gave and breathing in deep, full breaths. It took some time and a small amount of crying but eventually Kenma was able to pull the toy free and press soothing kisses along the line of Shouyou's right hip, paying special attention to the little birthmark there. One of his favorite places on his boyfriend's beautiful body. 

They relaxed and cuddled in the afterglow for a bit but it wasn't long before Shouyou rolled back on top of Kenma with a wild grin, "Your turn, Kenma!"

...Stamina freak.


	5. Tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Tamaki Amajiki/Mirio Toogata, Tamaki Amajiki/Kirishima Eijirou, Tamaki Amajiki/Midoriya Izuku

"Mirio, I don't think this is a good idea," Tamaki said for what he was sure was the fifth time since his blond boyfriend suggested it. Mirio just ignored him, flashing a bright smile with his blue eyes staring right through him into some unseen endless void and Tamaki let out a sigh of defeat. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. 

At least his kouhais were there to take pity on him, offering sympathetic smiles of their own. Midoriya even went as far as to pat his hand comfortingly. 

"It'll be alright, senpai," Kirishima said, "We'll be right here to take care of you. I doubt anything will go wrong with three heroes on your side! Well, one hero and two sidekicks," he corrected with a glance to Midoriya.

The curly haired boy took up the reigns, "Exactly! You're not just our senpai, you’re our friend. We won't let anything bad happen to you! You're safe with us. And as I was discussing with Mirio-senpai, it's better to test this out now. The earlier we know how your body will respond to this stimulus, the better you can prepare yourself in the future. Wouldn't want a villain taking advantage of the situation."

Tamaki frowned, "But I could just avoid alcohol completely. It's not some sort of requirement."

"No," Mirio agreed, "it isn't. But who's to say that there isn't a Quirk out there that mimics inebriation the way that villain from the yakuza did? Or that in a dire situation, alcohol is forced upon you? I don't like to think my boyfriend would ever be targeted and hurt in that way, but I worry nonetheless. So come on, do it to ease my concerns. Please?" 

And the combined puppy dog faces from three of the people he felt closest to in the world—thank god Nejire wasn't there or he'd have broken down and giving in even sooner—Tamaki is truly helpless to say no. He nods, fumbling with his sleeve.

"I just...I mean, I'll do it," Tamaki starts and Kirishima gives a little cheer that Mirio mimics and Tamaki just barely resists the urge to crack a smile at their antics, something that Midoriya fails miserably at as he beams at his friends—"just...make sure I don't hurt anyone or...or anything. Okay?"

"We've got your back, senpai!" Kirishima says, hardening his arms and banging his fist together big grin in his now trademark Red Riot stance. Midoriya's eyes shine as he nods vigorously and smiles wide only to blush when Mirio leans in and kisses Tamaki's cheek as a thank you. The poor boy is still unused to seeing public displays of affection and to be honest, Tamaki himself is a bit embarrassed by it but he loves Mirio too much to ever put a stop to it. And, well, it is nice. 

With another sigh, Tamaki finally raises the bottle to his lips and takes a small sip, surprised to find that it actually tastes pretty good. Muscat, Mirio called it? Moscota? Something like that. Either way, it was light and fruity and went down smoothly. Under the watchful eyes of his friends and lover, he drank and drank and drank. Not all at once of course! But in between their chatting, he continually sipped from his bottle and let them replace it with another one when it had been emptied. It was around the time Midoriya was asking him about the takoyaki stand he ate at earlier that Tamaki began to feel...strange. 

It started with a warmth rolling up and down his limbs, making them feel like they were moving slower than he wanted to. He felt a bit dizzy and a bit like he wanted to sing for some reason. His face felt flushed and his head floaty. All symptoms of the alcohol he assumed and that was confirmed when he narrated the sensations to the three men around him. 

Only...it didn't stop there. See, the point of all this was to test out how alcohol affected Tamaki's Quirk. And it turns out it did. In a very interesting way. 

Rather than feeling that sort of click in his chest when he activated his Quirk, Tamaki simply blinked and looked down to see that tentacles were forming and wriggling at the ends of his palms. Hmm. 

They were slow to grow out properly, the time they took to thicken and develop suctions longer than usual. Tamaki felt himself staring at them like he was watching a slow motion film, seeing them curl and unwind and grow out and upward, idly dancing in the air. He laughed and that laugh quickly became a giggle when the tentacles made their way to the other males in the room, wetly sliding on their faces.

For others, the feeling would likely be gross and uncomfortable but despite the unexpectedness of it, each of the faces looking back at Tamaki held fondness and a bright smile. Ah, such pretty smiles. Tamaki loved their smiles. 

Mirio's, the smile he grew up with; Kirishima's, the smile physically sharp and yet emotionally so soft and kind; Midoriya's, bracketed with sweet little starry freckles and full of compassionate wonder. Tamaki loved those smiles more than anything in the world. Always wanted to see them. Always wanted them near enough to...feel. Yes, he decided, he wanted to feel them.

And so did his tentacles, now moving with a bit more speed to trace around each smiling mouth. Tamaki found himself leaning forward, or perhaps he had leaned forward earlier and only noticed just now, eyes darting back and forth between the three mouths before him. 

They weren't exactly smiling anymore but they didn't seem displeased and Tamaki nodded along as the tentacles moved before he fully completed his thought, tracing each set of lips before tapping at them for entrance. 

To his left, Midoriya's mouth was the first to part as he gasped and Tamaki focused on him with a happy hum. He plunged into that open cavern, the tapered tip of his tentacle curling around Midoriya's tongue and tugging it lightly, making the boy moan and lurch forward with a confused noise. So cute. So pretty. 

Tamaki loved this pretty little mouth. He pet that cute pink tongue, flicked the roof of it to coax out another moan that made Midoriya flush red and try to shift away with a look of reproach at Mirio but the blond's eyes were dark and when Tamaki pouted, thinking he needed to pull away, Mirio brought a hand to rest at the back of Midoriya's head and urged him to keep the tentacle inside.

Pleased by this response, Tamaki let another tentacle curl possessively around Midoriya's waist as the one nearest to Mirio nudged his lips again for entrance. Mirio opened his mouth willingly and let the tentacle explore the inside—so warm and wet—to the fullest extent. He even gave it a few sucks and Tamaki noted sort of distantly that it made someone moan. 

It took him a few seconds to realize that HE was the one moaning but by then, he was already hard and panting too as Midoriya took a cue from his senpai and gave the tentacle in his mouth a gentle suck. Then Kirishima whispered something about manliness and his mouth was occupied by a tentacle as well, his sharp teeth playfully yet carefully nibbling on the saliva-slicked appendage in between sucks.

Tamaki loved it. Loved these perfect mouths and said as much, his hips pumping uselessly in the air as the tentacles curled around hot tongues and played with them using his suckers, as they shifted back further to tease at the back row of three wonderful sets of teeth and then began to tickle the throats of Tamaki's favorite boys.

His boys, all his. They belonged to him. Their mouths belonged to him, that's why this was okay, that's why they were letting him fuck them, letting him greedily bulge out their throats with a thick tentacle as they drooled and moaned around his Quirked fingers, their own hands pushing and rubbing desperately at the matching bulges in their pants.

Tamaki didn't realize he'd been saying it all out loud, claiming them as his with his words as powerfully as he was with his tentacles until the three of them were choking around agreements, Midoriya and Kirishima nodding their heads as tears slipped down their faces and Mirio staring Tamaki down as if to say look, look at what you've done, Tamaki, look at these strong heroes that you OWN.

And that was enough for the drunken man to lose that last bit of control, cumming hard enough in his pants that his vision whited out, the tentacles leaving his boys' mouths to roughly palm their erections until they too came, as Tamaki clung on just barely to consciousness.

He felt a kiss press against his head, followed by two hands lightly clasping his own as the tentacles grew shorter and more humanlike until nothing but a normal hand remained

"See, Tamaki? We got you. All three of us. You're safe with us," Mirio said, just before Tamaki passed out.


	6. Noncon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Demon Slayer  
Relationship: Human AU! Muzan Kibutsuji/Kamado Tanjiro, slight one-sided Kamado Tanjiro/Kamado Nezuko  
CW: Noncon, rough sex, breathplay, implied violence, implied murder, age gap, unhealthy relationship, incest themes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated this chapter's position to match the #mnstrmonth prompts!

There are some things that are easy to explain away. A bruise is from an unfortunate fall. A scar on a leg is from an old bike chain slicing upwards as it broke. Nezuko hears these sort of phrases and variations on them time and time again. At one point, it was difficult not to believe them. Nowadays she believes anything but the words that fall so readily from her brother's downturned mouth as he resolutely directs his gaze somewhere above her shoulder. 

Other things are not so easy to explain. Like the faraway look in a Tanjiro's eyes in the middle of a quiet dinner between the three of them. The hiccuping sobs that she can hear sometimes through the thin wall that separates her room from her brother's own. The...other sounds...when the rest of the world is dark and silent, that drift from the master bedroom. The chill in the air when she notices Tanjiro's left his bedroom door open and yet she cannot see the bathroom light on nor find him in the kitchen or the living room, meaning he must be with their guardian. The way Tanjiro flinches when he hears the word "Father." 

Nezuko has wished, for quite some time now, that she will grow up tall and strong and broad. That her mere presence will be enough of a deterrent to all the unseen demons that chase her brother from each shadowy corner of their large house. That she will be able to banish the more tangible demon who wears the mask of a human and watches Tanjiro's every move with dark hungry eyes from their lives for good. But she is (and has remained for three long, dreadful years) a small and mute little girl with a weak constitution. Some days, she cannot do anything but sleep and stare unblinkingly at the ceiling, laying prostrate in her futon from sunrise to sundown.

On those days, Tanjiro does his best to sit beside her. Talks and reads to her with his gentle hands clasping her own smaller ones. Speaking with tenderness so that she may experience the world in an abstract sort of way while her frail form lies immobile. Of course, Tanjiro is called away on those days just as he is on any other. She tries her very hardest to throw off the shackles of her affliction; break free of the paralysis spells, open her mouth and let her rusty disused voice crawl out like the bedraggled form of a stubborn beast who has seen Hell and lived to tell the tale. But though her heart and mind are strong, her spirit indomitable, her body refuses to move and no sound passes her lips. She is cursed.

But she knows, even without his confirmation, Tanjiro has it worse.

They were not always this way. Once upon a near forgotten time, they were happy. Healthy. Whole and hale. Tanjiro would walk her and their other siblings to school. The two of them would mind their little brothers and sister together as well as the tend to the home alongside their doting mother. They lived simple but fulfilling lives in a happy little home at the top of a mountain. Their world was bright and full of hope. They had lost their father to a cruel bout of pneumonia not long after little Rokuta was born but they were surviving despite the sorrow and the loss. 

And then one day Tanjiro went down to the city to do a bit of chore work for the kind folks there who had welcomed the Kamado family into their lives and rallied around them in their time of need. Though the Kamado estate was far from the town, they were pillars of the community and everyone had appreciated how kind and generous the Kamado family was to venture through any weather to provide them much-needed charcoal. And Tanjiro, since he'd been the oldest son and by far the kindest of them all, was happy to stay a bit longer in town and help with the daily chores of the sweet folk there.

He hadn't planned on staying as long as he had. Hadn't foreseen the weather turning quick so quick and brutal during the night. Hadn't thought he'd ever make it up the steep mountain to see his family members splayed out in the winter snow in pools of crimson, Nezuko barely breathing and struggling to reach for him. 

...Her memories of what happened that morning are practically nonexistent. She recalls only flashes of a deep and foreboding fear, swaths of blood staining the familiar walls of their home, the scent of copper and the feel of cold leather wrapped around her throat. Even if she could drag up anything substantial from the depths of her fractured conscience, the damage to her vocal cords and mind had rendered her entirely speechless. Her attempts to converse even on a good day was a pathetic garble of growls and choking half-syllables that made her burn with shame at her own ineptitude. Tanjiro always praised and encouraged her, though. Loved and admired her all the more for trying when it was so difficult. So she kept at it. Pointless as it was.

Tanjiro carried Nezuko all the way to the nearest doctor and she miraculously recovered from the brink of death. But she would be forever broken. Her body prone to giving up on itself, locking up for hours at a time as Tanjiro fussed over her. Breathing was difficult after too much activity too, no matter how light, and she developed an aversion to sunlight. The brightness hurt her eyes and the warmth always felt too heavy on her skin for reasons no physician could explain. Not that they could afford treatment anyway, with her and Tanjiro being penniless orphans.

Or they were, until they received a mysterious message from the city. A man named Muzan Kibutsuji, a distant relative to their late father (or so he had claimed,) agreed to take them both in. Provide them shelter, stability. A new chance at life. He had a wife and son, the message said, who'd been taking from him in the same callous fashion as the other Kamado's were. Tanjuro would want his remaining family to be with Muzan and learn how to live again. 

Nezuko and Tanjiro had no other choice. They were collected and were officially adopted by Muzan within a matter of days.

Nezuko had been frightened and wary but Muzan had seemed kind at first. Strange. Imposing, with that tall figure and his devilishly handsome face, his clothes as sharp as his wit and tongue. His smiles for them had been welcoming but strangely detached. Cold, in a way, much like his hands were whenever they weren't covered by those pristine white leather gloves he was so fond of. Tanjiro and Nezuko had to be thankful, however, for Muzan's selflessness. He brought them into his home. Into his life. He was serving as their guardian. He would clothe, feed, protect, and love them now that their mother was gone.

If only it were that simple.

There are some things that are easy to explain away as the actions of a concerned and loving caretaker. Touches to the face, the lower back, kisses to messy hair.

Other things are not so easy to explain. Demanding Tanjiro sit in Muzan's lap at dinner. Commanding open-mouthed kisses for greetings and departures. Creating a rule that meant Muzan was to be referred to as "Father" at all times and that the Kamado siblings were to never speak of their old family again. 

Those sorts of things were not normal. Or loving. Or even all that kind. 

Nezuko should have suspected more. Should have been smart enough to forsee it all before it was too late. But soon enough she was watching her brother disappear into Muzan's study and come out hours later with sore knees and teary eyes. Without words, she could only comfort him with weak hugs. Gentle pats on the head. 

Sometimes Muzan would bathe with Tanjiro and Nezuko would wait for her turn. She would try to tell her brother that she saw the marks around his neck, the indents in his chest that looked like teeth, the blood that had dried on his thighs that hadn't been washed away. Tanjiro would only smile and talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Talk to fill the quiet. Talk to distract her from the vivid painful evidence on his body. Talk about how, no matter what, he would make sure her life was a good one. Talk about them surviving and thriving here, so long as she kept her head down and remained respectful to Father. So long as she never questioned Father, or looked at Father too long, or kept him from Father when the man called him away. 

And Nezuko hated it. She hated it. And yet she could do nothing. Nothing without hurting herself or her brother even more than what was already happening. And she was young and naive, not fully understanding things anyway but she knew...she knew things were...bad. Terrible. But Tanjiro promised her that it was okay. That there'd be a brighter future for her. That she'd be happy. Truly, blissfully happy. One day.

It took her far too long to notice that Tanjiro had intentionally left himself out of that future.

It took her far too long to gain the strength needed to shuffle to the master bedroom and open the door to see Muzan driving his cock deep into a sobbing Tanjiro, one of the man's leather-clad hand wrapped around Tanjiro's throat while the other roughly squeezed at Tanjiro's small soft dick like it was a toy. Far too long to stand there on weak knees and listen to her brother choke around begs for Muzan to stop, for him to just end it, just kill him already, just let him die. Far too long to stumble back towards her room, hardly clearing the doorway before her body gave out and she became immobile again, the sight of Muzan's lust-blown eyes meeting her own horrified ones replaying over and over in her mind. 

And it took far, far, _far _too long for her heartbeat to settle into a steady rhythm and the pulsing heat in her lower half to simmer down with the image of her older brother taking Muzan's cock so _inexplicably easy _into his unwilling and unaroused body. Nezuko may have survived a great deal of horror and pain in her young life but no matter how resiliently she clung to mortality, it was clear that she was **forever** broken.


	7. Lactation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Yaoyorozu Momo/Jirou Kyouka

After complaining of headaches and ear pain coupled with random bouts of dizziness and nausea for three days straight, Jirou had finally succumbed to her girlfriend's insistent pleading and went to Recovery Girl. Turns out she'd somehow managed to get an inner ear infection. 

Of course. Because why would she not? It wasn't like her Quirk relied on functioning ears or anything. Just her luck...But thankfully, the antibiotics she was prescribed seemed to be doing their thing.

Even if they were horse pills that—no matter how fast she swallowed them and tried to drown them with water—always made her mouth taste incredibly gross after. Her symptoms began to fade and there didn't seem to be any real side effects. Well. Initially, there weren't.

Yet back luck always seems to follow bad luck and sure enough, Jirou was dealt another hand of terrible cards.

It happened during a team exercise. Jirou had just incapacitated Satou (a feat she was pretty proud of considering how much muscle and height the other guy had on her) and was feeling good. And then she heard a gasp and turned just in time for her girlfriend to run up to her and wrap her in the warm cloak Momo had added to her hero costume for the winter and hustled her away.

"Momo! What're y—" Her girlfriend shushed her lightly and kept moving her with a firm yet gentle grip towards Aizawa and All Might.

Trying to wriggle out of her hold was proving impossible and the pride Jirou felt at taking down Satou by herself was a bit bruised by how easily her girlfriend was able to hold her and steer her around like this. Though, to be fair, it was also kind of hot.

But everything Momo did was unfairly attractive because SHE was unfairly attractive and also sweet and kind and so adorable sometimes that it made Jirou's chest ache. Actually, her chest was kind of aching now. Weird. Momo wasn't being any cuter than usual.

Clearing her throat lightly to get the attention of their senseis, Momo spoke quickly and lightly, "I noticed Jirou is experiencing an unfortunate side effect of the medication she has been taking recently and I would like to escort her back to the dorms."

Aizawa gave her a bland look and Jirou tried to protest, muttering that she felt fine (ignoring the now obvious tenderness in her chest) as the man remarked that he saw no such sign himself and there was only another ten minutes left in class.

Momo was persistent, however, and when Jirou attempted to move away to physically wave off her concern, the taller teen tightened her hold on the purple-haired punk girl and leveled Aizawa with an intense look.

"With all due respect sir, the matter is of a personal--ahem--distinctly female nature." Jirou scrunched her eyebrows. She wasn't on her period; even as a bi woman in a relationship with another woman (the most beautiful woman in the world, in her opinion) she took the pill for the sole purpose of _ avoiding _her period and the terrible cramps that accompanied it.

But Momo looked resolute and serious. Jirou knew better than to counter her when her mind was set on something. She gave a hesitant but clear nod and All Might patted Aizawa's arm, "it's fine. We can excuse the two of you for the rest of the exercise.

Both of you have already completed your assigned tasks here anyway and I'm sure the others would be glad to update you on what you missed in the final moments." Aizawa sighed and waved them off, Momo hurriedly guiding Jirou to the dorms.

"Feel like explaining what all of that was about?" Jirou asked as she was more or less dragged away. "As I said, it's a personal thing. A...delicate thing. We'll talk about it when we reach my room."

Jirou wasn't keen on being the one in the dark when it was about HER own body but if there was one person she trusted and respected in this world, it was Yaoyorozu Momo. 

"Fine. Let's go. But we can just hold hands, you don't have to carry me like a purse." An exaggeration of course but it brought a flush to Momo's face and she let her go to link their fingers instead. Cute.

After they made it to the extravagant room, Momo unclasped the cloak from around her smaller girlfriend and took off the girl's shoulders along with the classic black jacket of Jirou's hero costume.

Then, with a look that seemed apologetic almost--sympathetic, at the very least--Momo gently took Jirou by the shoulders and turned her to face the tall mirror resting in the corner. Now it was Jirou's turn to gasp and turn a bright red in mortification. Her shirt!

Her shirt was stained in the front! And not just any small ketchup or soy sauce stains from lunch. There were two dark stains roughly the size of her fist on her salmon-colored tank, right where her...oh, oh gods, what the actual fuck??? She was fucking LEAKING? From her nipples?

"I, I'm not even pregnant!" she exclaimed and Momo was quick to soothe her, stepping up to hug her loosely around the waist, "I know, I'm sorry! I caught it before anyone else did but it appears one of the side effects of your medication is well...lactation.

"But I got you away from the others! They don't know about it." Jirou glared at her chest in the mirror, "I know about it! And it's gross! What the hell am I supposed to do about this? Momo, I look disgusting."

She pulled at her shirt, looking down it to direct her anger and disgust at her chest more directly. Ugh, her bra was soaked, how didn't she notice this before? Gods, this was so nasty. Momo pressed a kiss to her neck, distracting her for a moment, "It's not gross. It's certainly...unexpected. But it's nothing that a small alteration in your prescription won't change. It might even be the dosage, even cutting it down might lessen the effects."

Jirou snorted, "Yeah, but that's not going to do anything about it right NOW. I'm just gonna leak like a faucet for what? Hours? A day? Ugh, this is nasty." Momo shook her head, her long hair sweeping along Jirou's neck and face ticklishly and giving her a big waft of that orange blossom and pomegranate shampoo she always used. It smelled really good.

"It's not...all that bad, really," Momo said and Jirou gave her a flat look which made the other girl more insistent, "it's not! I'm sure it'll stop eventually but if not we could always..."

"Always what?" Jirou questioned. 

"We could...hasten the process. Exacerbate the production to get your body to return to its normal state."

Jirou raised a brow and turned to look at her girlfriend, surprised to see the girl avoiding her gaze with a red face and idly playing with her utility belt.

"Momo?" The girl's face blushed brighter and her eyes darted to Jirou's chest before returning to the floor, a soft noise from the back of her throat punctuating the action. "Momo are you...are you suggesting that we, what? Milk me?" 

Another soft noise, this one higher-pitched and...needy. "Oh gods, you actually want to milk me?? Momo!" Did Jirou step into an alternate universe where she had to kinkshame the prim and proper miss Yaomomo?? 

She gaped at her girlfriend for what felt like hours as the taller girl squirming in embarrassment as she stuttered excuses about how it would most likely help Jirou and that it wasn't all that uncommon for people to have an interest in human biology and that they were both clearly predisposed to liking several facets of the female form, thank you very much! It wasn't ridiculous to think she would develop a certain fascination—er, mild curiosity!—in this particular...situation.

And then Momo proceeded to use a bunch of words with far too many syllables, which she only did when she was very nervous or very excited and well...it was cute. And Jirou was weak to her girlfriend being cute, sue her.

So reluctantly, she pulled off her damp shirt and bra (which Momo squeaked at, again being far too cute) and then the taller girl was closing the small distance between them, gaze locked on Jirou's chest. Personally, Jirou really didn't get the appeal.

She wasn't particularly fond of or confident in the size of her breasts as is, so adding liquid to them that leaked out with each breath she took didn't really do much but make her face scrunch up in discomfort. Momo had luscious, full, cream-colored breasts and beautiful pink nipples that Jirou thought were much more worthy of love and devotion in comparison.

Yet the look of wonder and awe on Momo's face was genuine, as was the pleased gasp when she cupped under Jirou's tits and massaged them in a small circle, making her "side effect" milk spill out over Momo's delicate hands...it actually...kinda felt nice?

It soothed the ache Jirou had in her chest, dulling it, and the way her...milk...ran over Momo's hands in rivulets was kind of fascinating. And a little sexy. Maybe. And then Momo's face was moving down and closer and her mouth sealed around Jirou's left breast and oh, oh, oohhhh, yes, yes, no this was really, really sexy, yes! 

"Ahhh, ahh! Momo!" Jirou exclaimed and her girlfriend moaned around her tit, sucking more as her hand massaged the unattended breast. It felt so good! So damn good!

Jirou was overwhelmed with a sense of pleasure and relief she hadn't ever experienced before and she arched up into the feeling, one of her own hands coming up to pat at Momo's head. Her palm glided down those pretty dark locks as Momo milked her breasts of all the liquid stored inside, alternating to suckle at each of them equally. If Jirou thought her girlfriend was cute before, she was downright adorable and sexy now.

It kind of made Jirou feel sort of...maternal? But in a sexy way? Great, Momo gave her a damn mommy kink now too. Jirou wanted to roll her eyes but she was feeling too good.

"That's it babygirl, good, good," she whispered and Momo whimpered, sucking with more vigor and pawing at her needily. Damn. Okay. That was something to try out in the bedroom later. 

As it happened, Jirou's milk seemed to dry up all too soon and they both couldn't help but sigh a little in disappointment before Jirou grinned at Momo, grasping her waist and leaning up to whisper in her ear, "How about you lose the rest of the outfit and we break out that new strap you bought, babygirl?" 

The eager nod and the way she practically ran to the lockbox of toys under her bed was a good enough answer for Jirou.

  
  



	8. Arranged Marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Mob Psycho 100  
Relationship: Reigen Arataka/Shigeo Kageyama  
CW: shota (Mob is 14) and some feminization in language and dress referring to him because of mistaken identity (and also because the term "wife" when referring to a young boy is literally the fucking hottest thing, fuck)

Arataka didn't like to refer to his professional title as "con artist." It just seemed far too negative. If anything, he'd call himself a persuasive talker. A master manipulator of words, a skilled suggester. He didn't con people; he simply drew out the most beneficial results for himself based on the situations he found himself in. He helped others happily and often, even if it was with the goal of filling his pockets with coin. His work was mainly motivational; settling others' minds by parroting back solutions they tiptoed around but didn't commit to, massaging away worries and fears with clever hands and smooth talking. As such, there was indeed an element of artistry in what he did but he never conned anyone.

Those that offered him money, clothes, shelter, goods for his services did so entirely of their own will. And he did no real harm with his actions despite the caustic letters that his mother wrote him regarding his relatively transient lifestyle of hopping from town to town before his name became a bit too well known. 

However, what happened when he left the country and entered into the small but prosperous kingdom of Negi and its capital, Seasoning City, he was not planning on being herald as the reincarnation of the kingdom's first ruler Akira. Now Arataka was completely and utterly confident that he had no relation to the former king. But he was by no means upset by the strange yet persistent noblemen and historians that flocked him and compared him to the depictions of their old ruler whom he did honestly look a great deal like. He was...a bit tired in all fairness. The constant moving, the lies—er, the altered facts and ambiguous statements—he made were piling up and threatening to drown him. 

As were a handful of dissatisfied clients and skeptics to his prowess at...well, whatever he did in order to put food in his belly and money in his hands. So with the promise of steady gold and a good roof over his head, he went along with the charade. It wasn't difficult to play the part of a reincarnated royal after all. He claimed to have very limited knowledge of the land and the state of his kingdom in its current year because his memories of his old life were blurred and vague. Plausible enough. And it wasn't like anyone was capable of denying him. 

It was clear after some time enjoying the early stages of a newfound life of luxury and "relearning" his kingdom's cultures and resources that Arataka was not going to be crowned king immediately, for which he was grateful. He couldn't possibly handle the weight of running a whole country. And there was a current family already on the throne and had successfully kept the country prosperous and beautiful.

However, the current king was tiring quickly from illness and his only successors were very young. As such, Arataka learned quickly that his new position in this lap of luxury would only be secured if he were to marry the oldest child of the current king. It would cement his place with the kingdom's people to show a unified front with himself and the current rulers _and _he wouldn't need to worry about actually _working_ as a king; the established rule wouldn't be changed, he'd simply be a show king. A dream job for someone like him. 

He just didn't particularly like the idea of being married off to some stranger. Call him a romantic, but Arataka would've liked the chance to get the know the person he was going to be married to. As fate would have it though, he didn't see nor hear them until the day of the wedding. All he'd known was that they were younger than he was (the noblemen were cagey about just how _much_ younger) and they were gentle and obedient. He supposed those were all appealing traits to must men and privately admitted that he wasn't adverse to the idea of bedding some pretty young docile thing. 

What he hadn't expected, however, was for the image presented to him when he entered the grand throne room at the core of the majestic castle. He had expected a fair beauty of roughly sixteen years but the small thin figure before him was even younger than that. She hadn't even developed the telltale swell of breasts yet, her hair in two long braids that rested against her flat chest. Her face was obscured by an opaque white veil that ended just above the Cupid's bow of her soft pink lips, the shape of her mouth so small and childlike that Arataka felt dirty just thinking about kissing it for the ceremony let alone using it for more martial purposes later on. 

She hardly reached his chest and the width of her shoulders was half the size of his at best. She was like a delicate little flower, a baby bird decked in soft white silk with the traditional royal red flowers of the nation cinching her narrow waist in a beautiful floral belt with a larger one pinned effortlessly into her dark hair. She was the absolute picture of youthful innocence and purity and it made Arataka feel twice his age to think of himself rucking up the layers of her simple yet elegant dress to expose her most private parts to his perverted eyes and take her over and over again until her body grew accustomed to the pleasure only a dutiful husband could provide.

Oh how he wanted to dirty this pristine symbol of naivety, to deflower her both literally and figuratively. He was thankful for the very first time that the garb of the Negi kingdom was so layered lest the people he was supposed to be a paragon for saw the way he hardened so quickly for their beloved princess. 

He hardly registered the ceremony itself, reciting vows and making the proper movements that had been coached to him during the month leading to this event without thought, gaze and mind locked onto his gorgeous little bride and no other. He hadn't realized he had such a predilection towards girls not yet bloomed into women and yet his body burned for his bride. Kingship be damned, he cared not for the title and the power and the wealth in this moment; so long as he was able to consummate his marriage with his lovely little wife, they could tell him he was to be denounced to slavery instead of royalty and he would accept his new role with open arms. Well, maybe not but the fact remained that he very much wanted the ceremony to end quickly before he pushed his wife down onto the throne and seeded her with a few heirs before the whole damn court!

Arataka was so tuned into her body and the pleasant noise of her breathing that he almost didn't notice when she was referred to as Crown Prince Shigeo Kageyama and responded back with her own vows in a soft and quiet yet distinctly masculine voice. Against his own volition, the knowledge that his wife was a male sent an even larger current of electrifying pleasure through him and towards his cock.

It had never occurred to him that the oldest child of the current king was a boy, nor had it dawned on Arataka until this very moment that he undeniably lusted for the form of an untouched little boy but the very idea of opening up a new world of pleasure to this impossibly pretty kid thrilled him to no end. It was through sheer will and determination that Arataka didn't let the blood rushing south ruin the ceremony or snarl when the festivities ended and Shigeo was taken from his side to be delivered later to his rooms. Even their first shared kiss as a couple to end the ceremony was an exercise in control, the sweet taste of Shigeo's tentative tongue meeting his own and the way Arataka could fill that small mouth so terribly easy...Arataka had felt more like a god than a king.

Yet felt more beast than man as he paced his bedroom floor in a simple thin red yukata, so full of barely restrained desire for his partner, his new wife, to arrive. After an hour that felt like years, the door opened and in entered what Artake determined to be the most beautiful creature in existence. If Shigeo had been lovely before, he was ethereal now in a thin red nightgown with matching ribbons and intricate white lace strap that further emphasized how delicate and pale he was. The garment hardly brushed past his mid-thighs and swayed teasingly around them as he took small, measured steps toward Arataka on tiny bared feet decorated with yet more red ribbons on thin ankles. 

The cloth was snug on the boy's small form and yet just before he reached Arataka, a lacy strap fell to further expose a pale shoulder. That single action condemned Arataka to a life of sin far greater than any he may or may not have committed in the past. Now, his sole purpose in life would be to ruin this sweet little boy over and over. Uncaring to how depraved he must have looked, Arataka licked his lips as his eyes devoured the form of his tiny wife, his large hands coming up with intent to grab his hips and drag him in close, grind his adult cock—flushed and throbbing with need beneath his own thin cloth—against the warm skin of Shigeo's thigh. 

He was stopped however, when he noticed a sheen on the boy's face and he blinked, a bit of sense cutting through the lust when he looked into the boy's eyes (such a dark and gorgeous black, like the deepest night, lit only by the twinkling stars that danced in his iris) as more tears formed and clung to long lashes. How had Arataka not noticed such beautiful eyes before, he could not say, for they stirred in him just as much as the body of their owner did but he found himself swallowing down his carnal desire to gently cup Shigeo's face, thumb brushing his cheek and coaxing a hot tear to fall down onto it.

"You cry, sweet wife, and tremble. Are you afraid of me? You need not be. I am your husband and will do no harm to you," Arataka said in an attempt to soothe.

A quiet sniff answered him and Arataka slipped a few strands of the boy's bowllike bangs behind a small ear, finding tiny red piercings there. 

"I am afraid, dear husband," Shigeo began, "because we did not know each other before today and now you are forever tied to me. I am surely no substitute for a young lady of your choice and I worry that I will sadden and anger you with my inability to perform the proper duties of a woman, of a queen, to a king so blessed by the Fates that he has been reborn to better lead my people to greatness."

For all intents and purposes, the short speech given by Shigeo should not have further endeared Arataka and reignited his lust but the man found himself throughly impressed and aroused by the demure nature of his wife and the boy's sincerity and selflessness. This sweet little darling believed in all that he had been told about Arataka and moreover, cared only for pleasing his new King and their nation. The gap between Shigeo's virtue and Arataka's sinful nature was almost sickening and it made him hunger for the need to corrupt that innocence with his body, to tarnish the beauty of Shigeo's soul with his cock.

"My dearest treasure, we may not have known each other for long but believe me when I say I would not have accepted you as my one and only did I not find you perfect in every way." A lie, for he hadn't known anything about Shigeo before, but also bearing much truth because Arataka did find the boy perfect. Perfect to marry, perfect to kiss, perfect to fill with his cum on the massive bed behind them.

"Worry not, beloved wife, for I am yours and you are mine, as decreed by the gods. In my eyes, there is no other fitting to rule beside me than you. If you are to allow it, I would greatly like to show you all of my passion and instill in you my belief for a very successful and loving marriage between us with the union of our bodies. If my words do not set your troubled heart at ease than surely the consummation of our union will as you learn that our bodies can intwine as easily and beautifully as our souls do," Arataka finished smoothly, giving the boy a charming smile and offering his hand.

The picture of obedience, Shigeo rewarded him with a smile of his own, small and sweet, and a slight nod as he blushed and places his smaller hand in Arataka's. The pink in the boy's cheeks nearly turned to match the red of his clothes as the man bent his head to press his lips to the back of Shigeo's knuckles before pulling him in abruptly and spinning them to land on the bed. The gasp and surprise of Shigeo's face at the disarming move was adorable and Arataka reveled in the fast thumping of the boy's heart when he placed a hand on his small flat chest and joined their lips in a soft and meaningful kiss. 

According to his cock, though, Arataka couldn't afford to be gentle for too long and soon he was turning the kiss into something sloppy and dirty and heated, swallowing the cute confused moans of his virginal wife. He let the weight of his ignored cock rest heavy and hot against Shigeo's thighs and groaned as the boy instantly opened his legs for him, pulling away from the kiss to breathlessly call out the name of his king and husband. Arataka answered with a low rumble of the boy's name and a controlled thrust against the boy's hardening cock. Arataka was about average size but he dwarfed the boy's dick, a cute and thin thing to match the rest of his small body. It strained adorably upwards, dampening the red nightgown with precum.

Arataka fondly remembered how easy it was to slick up his cock at that age and he throughly enjoyed reaping the benefits of youth with his wife now, sliding their cocks together as he gripped them tight and rolled his hips against Shigeo's. This kid—his perfect, perfect child—hardly lasted a minute before crying out and shuddering beneath him, coating their dicks in thin boycum. Arataka thought he knew decadence before when he'd first been thrown into a whirlwind of finery and announced as the reincarnation of a king but he realized now it was nothing compared to the flushed heavy breast of his wife as his cute pink cock twitched against a small belly and teary dark eyes watched in awe and pleasure as his spend was gathered up and brushed against tight little balls until wet fingers eventually dipped down into his ass.

Shigeo was gorgeous, falling apart on Arataka's clever fingers, clumsily wrapping small arms around the blond's head and pulling him in for messy kisses, begging for more, begging for something he didn't even have a name for yet, knowing nothing of this adult pleasure except for that it was being given to him by his husband and his king and therefore the best gift he'd ever received. Arataka was in a similar state of disaster, leaking like a schoolboy onto the unblemished flesh of his wife's stomach as he fucking him with his fingers, stretching him further and further, coaxing out a second, much louder orgasm from the boy before deeming him open enough to fuck.

And gods, did Shigeo take his dick well. He was so impossibly small and tight and yet that little pink rosebud blossomed, accepting all of Arataka with ease and grace, cupping his cock in warm velvety walls that pulsated around him as Shigeo gasped for air and clenched around the intrusion, tiny body wracked with a confusing mix of pleasure and pain that made the tears fall more freely as he mouthed Arataka's name silently over and over. 

"My beautiful bride, my sweet wife, you were made for this. I told you. Look how well you fit me inside you. See how your body responds to my every move, my words, my very breath," the man praised in awe, eyes jumping from Shigeo's messy face to his messy hole. He loved watching the boy's lips and pussy both turn puffy and reddish as he used them, kisses bruising that little mouth and balls slapping harsh against that little ass. Arataka could live the rest of his life just like this, buried inside his smaller lover and drunk on the way the boy gazed up at him like he was divine. A deity sent down to reward the Kageyama family's prosperous rule and Shigeo's innumerable graces with a hard cock hell bent on wringing out orgasm after orgasm from the boy.

It was only a matter of time before Arataka couldn't take it anymore—the heat, the tightness, the beauty, the thrill of consuming and soiling such a pristine and noble young boy—and came as well, hot ropes of thick cum pouring out of his adult cock into a body too young and small to take it all properly, watching as some of it lewdly slipped past the tight ring around his dick to drip down onto the bed. As Shigeo's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth forming the words "my king" before he fell unconscious, Arataka took a moment to appreciate the kingdom of Negi for still allowing arranged marriages in the royal family. Thank the gods a thousand times he was given his sweet, sweet little wife. What more could a good honest king ask for?


	9. Bestiality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Mob Psycho 100  
Relationship: Mogami Keiji/Shigeo Kageyama, Dog/Shigeo Kageyama  
CW: shota (Mob is 14,) possession of an animal, rape/noncon, knotting, and bestiality

Shishou loved dogs. This was simply a fact. Shigeo had yet to decide if he preferred dogs or cats, or maybe some other creature entirely, the most. He supposed he was more inclined to foxes, so clever and handsome. Like...well, like Shishou. Not that he was ready to confess to the man that he thought of him that way. Shigeo was still young and still carried a torch for Tsubomi, which even his somewhat socially inept self could recognize was the more "acceptable" crush for him to have at this point in life. 

Reigen, his Shishou, was several years his senior after all (though his exact age seemed to be a secret the man was intent on keeping, never quite confirming whether he was in his twenties or thirties or forties—or rather the man tended to change his responses depending on the situation) and more importantly, a male. Though Shigeo had no qualms about men entering relationships with other men, he knew the world at large was not so kind. Or even indifferent. 

So, he'd keep the little fire of love in his heart for his Shishou secret, stoking it quietly to warm him through the nights, until such time that he felt ready to confess and handle all that action would entail for better or for worse.

But! In the meantime, Shigeo was free to come up with ways to please Reigen as a disciple of the paranormal and as a worker at Spirits and Such...and on this particular day, Shigeo found himself following a large black dog he saw on the way to the office. He didn't mean to waver, sure that Shinsou would be nervous if he arrived late, but the poor thing looked far too thin and raggedy, his dark curls matted and stiff in some places, grimy and too greasy in others.

Shigeo may not know if dogs are his favorite creature or even favorite among the traditional pet companions, but he knew for sure that this poor thing was in need of compassion and assistance and he was happy to help. He thought if he could just catch up to him, then he could coax the dog into coming with him to Reigen so that the two could take care of the animal until they found it a home. It had no collar to speak of, but perhaps it was the lost pet of some lonely kid? 

Shigeo had to help. It was the right thing to do. But even though his stamina had increased a great deal thanks to his training with the Body Improvement Club, he wasn't able to keep up with the dog, the animal remaining just out of reach and refusing to acknowledge him. Though it did look back every so often. As if to check to make sure he was following behind. It was odd behavior for a dog so frail-looking, at least Shigeo thought so, but he hadn't met a dog like this one before anyway. He didn't think much of it.

...Naivety on his part.

The dog led him for what felt like ages and it was only when Shigeo began to worry that he might not know how to find his way back home, the dog let out a happy bark and turned to face him. Again, odd behavior, but what did Shigeo know of stray dogs, really? He should have called Shishou and asked him to come along. He would know what was normal, what to do. But he hadn't and now Shigeo was alone with--

"Shigeo, or would you prefer Mob-kun?" came a dark and all too familiar voice and Mob swallowed down a fearful noise as his eyes grew wide. No. No. He couldn't be here. Shigeo would have sensed it, he would have noticed, energy like that, power that potent, it couldn't just be hidden! Not from any esper worth their salt. And Shigeo had been trained by Shinsou! From the beginning. He would have known if— 

"Mob-kun," Mogami's voice taunted from the open gaping mouth of the mangy dog. Its teeth were sharp and slightly yellowed, dripping with thick globs of drool, "Moooob-kun, I thought you wanted to play with the doggie? Don't you want to play with the cute little pooch? Though...he seems to be a bit bigger than you gave him credit for."

At the end of his ominous sentence, the image of the dog in front of Shigeo shifted, warping into the hulking form of a Doberman, all muscle and vicious intimidation as it snarled at him. The dog was massive and its eyes were red, bright with too much intelligence and bloodlust for anything but the cruel soul of Mogami in his tumultuous state of unrest. 

Shigeo didn't have any time to think before the oppressive weight of the demonic being was upon him in a physical and spiritual sense. Mogami froze him, cutting through Shigeo's shields like butter and allowing the dog to pounce on his weakened form. Even worse, Mogami had shoved Shigeo out of himself in a manner the boy had no time to defend against or even fully understand. 

It wasn't quite a projection, but it was a near thing, forcing Shigeo to watch in a sick movie as his limp body was manipulated by unseen hands and all too vivid paws topped with thick black claws that bit at the skin of his legs. Unable to move, unable to struggle, Shigeo watched helplessly as his clothes were ripped to shreds, threads still wet with saliva clinging to the spaces between terrifying canine jaws. 

A tongue as long as his forearm, or close to it, lapped the length of his legs and Shigeo couldn't even scream. Whatever Mogami had done to him, it had taken away his ability to process his senses correctly; all he could feel and smell and  _ taste _ was the weight of the dog, the filth of its

fur, the rotten tang of its saliva as the liquid dripped down into his mouth, opened without his consent to force him into a sick excuse for a kiss with a beast. 

Shigeo tried to fight, to search for some means of escape no matter how small or difficult but he could nothing to defeat this spirit who had years of experience, who was capable of things Shigeo hadn't even dreamed of. 

All too soon, Shigeo was forced to watch and feel that disgusting tongue play with the tightly furled rosebud of his ass, delving in deep and exploring it with loud, aggressive huffs and snuffles before the possessed dog offered him a twisted smile—all sharp edges and yet eerily human—and then Shigeo's vision crackled with sparks like fireworks as the pain of a tapered red cock, littered in thin veins, shoved it's way forward into his ill-prepared hole. 

It was pure white-hot agony, made all the more surreal and horrifying as he was allowed to feel each inch pierce into him with crystal clarity, could sense the wetness of his eyes and cheeks from his silent sobs, and yet couldn't feel the ground underneath him nor lift his arms to fend the thing off. Instead, he just screamed and cried without a voice as Mogami's dark laughter filled his head warm and fuzzy and painful, like cotton woven together with barbed wire. 

He couldn't feel the coldness of the pavement beneath him and yet he could sense the shift in his position as each rough, degrading, sharp thrust pushed his body up and down. And the thing that curdled his blood most, that filled his belly with bile, was the feeling of something at the base of the dog's cock, something thick and harder, warmer, that swelled a little more with each thrust. 

Shigeo didn't know what it was, couldn't think past his disgust and his fear and his embarrassment as his nose picked up the telltale sharpness of human piss added to the stench of filthy dog and the musk of sex, but he knew—he KNEW—that whatever that thing that tennis ball-sized thing was, it promised Shigeo nothing but hell. 

He prayed, begged, screaming in his mind even as it felt like it was fraying more with each passing second—and gods, how long was this going on, minutes? Hours? Days? Mogami was in full control, could be dragging this out. For all Shigeo knew, this was simply another time in an unending loop of torment that he subjected Shugeo to over and over again for his own sick pleasure. 

All the boy wanted was Shinsou to come for him, for the man to call, to appear like the hero of a story and rescue him, free him from Mogami's beastly claws. And yet he heard no buzz of his phone, the only salt he could smell was from his own tears, and should Shishou somehow make it to him, surely the man would be subjected to the same if not worse.

And then Shigeo could think of nothing but despair and pain, as the dog let out a howl and forced himself deeper inside, making Shigeo's body take that massive bulge into it as the creature scorched his insides in hot cum, load after load, only to flip them both painfully around, tugging harshly at the place where they were connected until they were facing away from each other. 

And still the dog fucked into him into aborted thrusts, the short tail and furred ass of the creature rubbing and bumping against Shigeo's ass and the back of his thighs. 

"I haven't cum like this in ages, Mob-kun. I've been so lonely. Stay and play with this little doggie for a while, hmm?"


	10. Mirror Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure  
Relationship: Muhammad Avdol/Jean Pierre Polnareff, implied Jotaro Kujo/Noriaki Kakyoin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I only just started watching JJBA this year (timestamp late Feb and early March 2020) and I GET all the hype now. It's my new favorite thing in the world. I hate how much I love this show and the characters and I want to fist-fight Araki in the parking lot of a Denny's at 2 am and yes, I'm gonna aim for his age-defying beautiful face. Rest assured that I'll have at least one other JJBA fic within this collection. I'm gonna write CaeJose whether you like it or not lol...and maybe some Jotakak. ;)

Discovering Avdol was alive had effectively turned Jean's life upside down. And now, despite the casual and seamless way the fortune teller had blended back into their ragtag group of Stand-users, the Frenchman still had trouble accepting that his friend was with them. Breathing, smiling, laughing beside them. Standing beside everyone as if he'd never left.

It was wonderful to have the Egyptian back. Of course it was! And yet Jean seemed to be spending most of his time these days assuring himself that Avdol was truly here rather than doing anything else. Staring at the other man's smooth caramel skin to confirm it wasn't that hideous clay monstrosity; focusing on the rise and fall of that broad chest when the man rested; inhaling the scent of myrrh, lillies, and warm cinnamon that was so uniquely Avdol whenever they stood side-by-side.

It had gotten to the point that Jean felt...anxious was probably the best term to describe it...whenever Avdol wasn't in his sight. When he couldn't hear the deep cadence of his dulcet voice float into his ears and roll down his spine to settle in his bones like it belonged there. Mourning the other, missing him, had in many ways shaped Jean into the man he was today. Just a handful of days without that wise and skilled companion had compelled Jean to face his weaknesses and misgivings head-on, effectively maturing him. But having the man return to them—to him? It was almost too much for the Frenchman to bear. 

He wouldn't change the course of his destiny for the world, naturally. The battle with Cameo's Judgement Stand had shown him the error of trying to tempt fate and alter history. As badly as he wished to have his beloved sister in his arms again, smiling at him like he had placed the stars in the sky just for her, he had to live _for _her now. His vengeance had been acted upon and now it was his duty to help the Joestar line defeat Dio and keep the world safe. So that no beautiful sweet girls like Sherry would know the cruelness of those like Dio and J. Geil. So that the world could be at peace and the friends he had made along his journey could rest and lead long, rich lives without the threat of assassins looming over their heads.

And Avdol, god above, Avdol could continue to laugh so free and bright as he had in the past few days. How strange a notion it had been to see Avdol's strict self so relaxed and yet Jean was hard-pressed to name a happier sight than that of the Egyptian's joy. There was a chill, a slight curl of icy air, around Jean's heart when he thought such a change was his fault: his earlier brashness indirectly leading to the deep gouge in Avdol's forehead and likely altering the man's psyche to some degree. Minds were such delicate things after all. 

However, altered sense of humor aside, Avdol was in most ways the very same man Jean remembered meeting in Hong Kong and traveling with them all on the arduous trail to Egypt. Ah, and didn't that feel like a lifetime ago! If not two or three!

The fortune teller was still as philosophical and gallant as Jean recalled on the day they met. The strength of his will and Stand were just as impressive if not more so in the light of his brush with death. And just as before, Avdol treated him with kindness and respect. Guiding the younger man but never belittling him. Standing beside him as an ally, an equal. Truthfully, Jean could not claim a better group of friends and comrades than the men he fought and travelled beside these days. And Avdol in particular was someone who had a special place in Jean's life. For being the first to challenge Silver Chariot properly. For being the voice of reason he needed most when his mind and heart were at war.

Maybe that was also a contributing factor to Jean's unwillingness to let Avdol leave his eye line for more than a few moments during the waking hours. The man had the inexplicable ability to provide comfort to Jean even when he was silent. For all that Jean enjoyed the sound of Avdol's boisterousness as it emphasized just how blessedly _alive_ the man was, just having the other guy nearby put Jean at ease. The moment his eyes caught those trademark Bantu knots or the glint of sunlight off the heavy medallions around the other's neck Jean felt like he could breathe easier.

The Frenchman wasn't the type to read into things like that any further. So he simply accepted this sudden desire to know where Avdol was in relation to him, how the man was faring in his "second" chance at life. To Jean, no additional thoughts were necessary. He believed he was concerned and interested in Avdol to the appropriate degree of any good friend. The fact that his eyes lingered on Avdol more than Joseph's or Kakyoin's ever did was simply...it could easily be explained away! Jean didn't know how but surely it could be! He just felt a bit more strongly for the Egyptian than the others. There was nothing inherently strange about that. Thus, Jean didn't think anything of it. 

But someone else in their group certainly did...

* * *

Egypt was a rare beauty, Jean thought as he gazed out the hotel's room to see the expanse of the city in all its gorgeously earthen colors turned a soft dark blue as night fell over the earth. It was no wonder Avdol came from a place like this. Strength was carved into the stones, wisdom found under the shade of tall trees, tenacity in the merging of the fine sand of the desert and the people thriving off the bountiful fertile land created on the banks of the Nile, magic in the lines of heat dancing over the horizon. Avdol had been born and raised here and even with the threat of a deadly fight with Dio and the rest of his minions, Jean could find it in him to appreciate how well Avdol fit in with the landscape and the people. 

It wasn't the countryside of France but Jean felt strangely at home in this foreign land with Avdol beside him as a guide and a friend. When all this was over and if they were still alive (not if, not if, they're gonna make it, they _must_) Jean would very much like to spend more time here in Avdol's homeland. Perhaps the fortune teller had sensed that from Jean without the Frenchman opening his mouth to say as much and that was why Avdol had chosen to room with him before Joestar could do anything. The Egyptian was considerate like that. And Jean certainly didn't mind given that his last few experiences with rooming by himself weren't exactly five-star. At least he and Avdol would be able to work together should some maniacal puppet-Stand pop out from under the bed wielding a knife.

The plan was to do some more reconnaissance of the area in the morning to ascertain if there were more of Dio's disciples about, the logic being that he likely kept his most trusted and powerful Stands nearby. Locating and eliminating them would be the first step to taking down Dio himself. To finally removing the curse over Holly and ridding the world of its greatest evil. But tonight they simply did their best to rest and prepare themselves. The students had quickly turned in for the night, secluding themselves in a room before Joseph could get a word out. The older man had simply sighed and elected to take the third room for himself to be alone with his thoughts and conjure up a way to explain himself once he returned to his wife.

It wouldn't be the first time that Avdol and Jean were left to their own devices together and yet there was a something different about this night. Something strange in the air, in the coolness of it that washed over the room right before Avdol came from behind Jean and closed the window. Jean turned towards his companion instinctively and was somewhat surprised to note that the man lingered close with his arms still behind the Frenchman. For reasons Jean couldn't fathom, his throat felt tight.

"Ah, are you turning in for the night? I thought it might be too early still. I was going to see what drinks they had here. Unless you had a recommendation mon ami?" Jean asks. 

Avdol looks at him silently for a moment and Jean feels the sudden and odd desire to squirm under those coffee-colored eyes. He steeled himself instead and continued to look at Avdol, waiting for a response of some kind. When he received it, however, it was not what he expected at all. Avdol's eyes glinted, lit with an emotion that Jean couldn't quite name.

"There's a mirror here," the Egyptian noted.

Jean blinked at him and turned to note the large mirror hanging on the wall. It was wide and reminded him, rather unfortunately, of the one from the hotel in Singapore. Again, he found himself thankful that Avdol was beside him. He also surreptitiously analyzed the reflection of the room for any dolls. Or worse, the ghostly apparition of Centerfold. Thankfully, he saw evidence of neither and relaxed with a barely audible sigh.

"Oh? Have you suddenly become vain? Dear Avdol, is that not against your religion?" Jean's voice is purposefully playful as he turns to face his friend again and yet Avdol's tone doesn't match his when he answers. He still looks too serious. And that glint is still in his eyes.

"This expedition had tested a great number of the tenets of my religion. My beliefs have been contested at many turns," Avdol pauses and looks quite intensely at Jean, "...some more than others."

Feeling indignant at a remark that surely must be directed at him—not that he can fathom why—Jean puffs out his chest. "And what does that mean?!"

He is entirely unprepared for Avdol to bring those large warm hands to his waist and brush over the v of his hips through the thin material of his tube top. "It means that I've been looking at you for far longer than you've been looking at me, Polnareff. And that I'm tired of simply looking."

There is surely an enemy Stand at work here because something is lodged in Jean's throat and words fail him. His face is gradually becoming as warm as Avdol's hands, his Magician's Red Stand. A poison! It must be! A poisonous Stand in the water or the air and it's choking the Frenchman, giving him a fever. It's making Avdol's voice lower and smoother and his uniquely exotic scent stronger, filling the air and making Jean's mind turn hazy. Yes. Of course. That's it, an enemy Stand at work. Jean must fight back. He must! He needs to break free from this strange curse and warn the others!

And yet...

And yet...

It doesn't truly feel like the work of an enemy. The whispers in his mind and heart telling him to close the already minimal distance between himself and his companion are so different from Anubis' cloying words. There is no telltale fog like with Enya. This all feels strange but there's nothing telling Jean that he should truly be afraid.

"Why _do_ you watch me?" Avdol suddenly asks and Jean knows that the Egyptian is not one to ask questions at random. In part because he is far more clever than his years suggest, meaning he often already knows the answer so he doesn't bother to voice the question in the first place. But also because he isn't the type to speak for the sake of hearing his own voice. His words and actions all have purpose, meaning. He is not one to waste time or exude effort where it isn't warranted. 

But Jean doesn't know how to answer this odd, abrupt question. Or maybe he does but it's not clicking in his mind. He's simply stuck there: struck silent and staring at Avdol. Soaking up the heat from the man's hands that are now firmly wrapped around his waist and the taller man hasn't taken a single step but he's definitely closer. So close. Jean's heart is beating rapidly, his temperature keeps rising—his cheeks feel like they are burning, burning, burning. He must look horrid, pale skin flushed a violent red, sweating bullets and breathing heavy despite not moving. 

If an enemy Stand is truly at work here, why is Silver Chariot not at his side? Why doesn't he feel the need to summon him?

Why is he looking at full, plump lips and feeling so damned parched?

"I...I don't know," Jean manages after a moment that stretched too long. It tastes like a lie on his tongue. 

"You don't know," Avdol says in a way that feels like a statement and a question and an accusation all rolled into one. A hand moves up from Jean's waist to cup the right side of his jaw. "You don't know," Avdol repeats, in that same complicated fashion. Why is he such a complicated man?

"I just...I—" Jean sees words he does not wish to voice dance across his mind's eye; I missed you, I was scared, I'm still scared, I don't feel scared when I'm with you. I don't understand, I don't understand, I don't know if I want to understand. I want you to help me understand regardless.

"—I can't help it," Jean confesses, "it just feels right. I, I worry when you aren't in my sight." Those words don't feel wrong but they don't feel like the whole truth either. There's something missing. There's something else. Jean's lips are parted to allow himself to follow up with more but nothing comes out. He can't seem to speak.

Avdol hums and Jean closes his eyes, feels the vibrations of that sound travel from where their chests brush against one another. "I like your eyes on me," he tells Jean, "but I want you to see more than just me. I want you to witness the future, the opportunities before you. I want you, Jean..."

Please, Jean thinks desperately, don't end the sentence there. His heart is beating painfully. He can't take this, he can't, he can't take it, he can't—

"...to see _us_," Avdol finishes in a whisper and it's so much worse, so much better, than had he ended his thoughts on Jean's name. The Frenchman has just enough time to breathe in once, deeply from his nose, before Avdol's lips are suddenly upon his own. And it's like the universe condensed around the two of them and then burst apart. Everything confused him but he _got_ it. It all made _sense_ now. So he didn't hesitate even though he had more questions than he had air in his lungs, more worries than space in his heart and everything, everything, everything felt like Avdol and smelled like Avdol and he was kissing back, he was kissing Avdol like there'd be no tomorrow and like there was no yesterday just _now _and _them_.

It felt amazing to kiss and be kissed like this, in this wonderful land of mystery and beauty and fucking DIO of all things, by this man. Avdol. And then they parted and Avdol spun him in his arms and a warm hand directed his face gentle but firm to that expansive mirror. "Look, Jean. Look at us," he commanded. 

And fuck, fuck, Jean _saw_ it. He saw the way his chest heaved, the way his skin was flushed and shiny with the sweat of desperation and desire. The way Avdol's skin contrasted so perfectly with his own. Like warm chocolate and cool whipped cream. Making something rich and light and delicious. He saw the unfettered lust in dark eyes, the need written in the barely-noticeable tremble in Avdol's body behind him. It was devastating. It was gorgeous. 

He stared unabashedly as Avdol's hands roamed over him. Pushing his top up to dance across his abs, tugging the material down to free his right pec and squeeze it, fondle the tight firmness of the muscle beneath the plush of breast tissue. Jean knew he was handsome, had charmed a far amount of women in his day (though he was, admittedly, still a virgin) and yet he hadn't ever felt as attractive as he did now, to be the panting mess that drove a stoic man wild. He saw how he effected Avdol vividly in the mirror and felt in in the rushed barely-controlled movements of the man's hands and mouth.

Jean's eyes lidded in pleasure but remained locked on the reflection of the embracing lovers in the pristine mirror as Avdol's lips and teeth found a sensitive spot on his neck and a thick heavy erection made itself known against his ass. A low groan erupted out of Jean without warning and he brought his hands behind him to clutch at Avdol's hair and the back of his thigh harshly, making the man snarl against his skin. Jean pulled Avdol more firmly against him, grinding their bodies together as if sheer force of will could make them become one. 

"Shit," the Egyptian cursed and the swear sent such a thrill through Jean. He felt a smile form on his face but the reflection told him it was more of a smirk than anything else. Avdol rolled into him and Jean was glad the man wore such loose clothing because it was terribly easily to yank them down even in the strange position. It was so damn rewarding to have the Egyptian show the same rough blind lust as he felt even if his own pants were ripped rather than shoved down. Avdol gasped his name as their flesh touched and tears unexpectedly formed in the Frenchman's eyes. Fuck, fuck, he wanted this so bad. Needed it. Needed Avdol. Fuck.

He'd closed his eyes only briefly to stave off more tears (of relief and pleasure and desperation, God above was he a wreck for this man) but it was enough time for Avdol to slip backwards and tug them both down to the bed. Jean focused on the sudden appearance of a small glass flask of golden oil. He chuckled wryly when he realized the hand holding it ended in talon-like nails; Magician's Red had gotten them lube. His amusement was lost in another hot, messy kiss. It hit him then, abruptly, that Avdol hadn't kissed anyone before him and it made him make a noise that was half-sob, half-moan into the kiss, deepening it further as warm oil turned the Egyptian's hand slick before it was guided down to their hard cocks. 

The pleasure it brought out in them made them gasp out in shock despite knowing it was coming. Fuck, at this rate _Jean_ would be cumming. Quick and hard like a teenager. The hot puffs of air from Avdol's panting mouth and the way he spoke Jean's name like it was the prayer of a dying man suggested he was just as close. It wasn't enough though. Not for their first time. Fuck. Fuck, their first time. They'd have so many more. If they survived—wh-when they won, when they made it, Jean was going to travel the world with Avdol all over again just to fuck him on every continent. Shit.

He pushed himself up and off to guide Avdol's hand past his balls, shivering when the man cursed and rubbed at his entrance with a broken cry that sounded vaguely like the Arabic word for "please." Jean lost his shirt completely, pushed and tugged at Avdol's until it disappeared somewhere off the bed. Then they were holding onto each other. Clutching hard enough to bruise, hard enough to hurt, kissing each other breathless. The oil was knocked over in the storm of their desire to be close, to feel every bare inch, and things became more chaotic and luxurious as their hard bodies slid together smooth and sinful. 

Avdol opened him up with deft fingers and a deep voice pouring praise into the skin of his chest in between wet kisses to his skin, tongue rolling over Jean's nipples just to hear him spit profanities in French that would make a sailor blush. When Jean felt the preparation was becoming more of a cruel tease, he pushed the Egyptian away and made to climb on top of him. Avdol shook his head though, instructing Jean to face away first. Jean didn't care, just as long as he got that heavy black cock inside of him. It was only when he settled down on it and _goddamn_ did it feel fucking _massive_ inside him.

It had looked deliciously proportional to the large man (and honestly, not much bigger than Jean's own cock, if a little thicker and with this slight upward curve that resembled the sensual sweep of a paintbrush across an artist's masterpiece) but to feel it? It was heavenly. Avdol absolutely _filled_ him and it was only when the man's hands came up to clasp his chest and a deep voice encouraged him to open his eyes did it all click. Avdol still wanted him to _watch_ _them_. He wanted each of Jean's senses to be drowning in their union.

They locked eyes in the mirror and Jean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Avdol was looking at him like he was an angel, no, a god. Avdol's eyes conveyed so much heady love that it had transcended into worship, a deep and full gratitude from his heart and soul. It was reflected perfectly back in Jean's own blue eyes as he looked at them. How their bodies fit together seamlessly. How strong and yet vulnerable they were like this, marble-sculpted bodies entirely absorbed in each other and feeding off the way pleasure weakened them to only one another. 

Avdol groaned as Jean clenched around him and the Egyptian pulled him back and downward just enough to expose where they were connected. Jean nearly came then, seeing where that caramel-colored shaft disappeared into his pinked and slicked hole. "Fuck, fuck! Look at us, _merde_!" He rolled his hips and Avdol bucked up into him, balls slapping lewdly against his ass. Jean moaned as Avdol's hands roughly massaged his pecs and perhaps another time would have him teasing the man for being such a tit man but he could only think about bouncing down on the cock inside him and staying lucid enough in the delirium of his pleasure to keep his eyes on their image in the mirror.

"So tight, so beautiful, Jean! Jean!" Avdol's voice sounded ruined beneath him and the mirror showed that Avdol's eyes were glued to where his dick thrusted and throbbed in his lover. The man's teeth were digging into his plump bottom lip and he hissed as Jean ground his hips in circles that made stars appear behind the Frenchman's own eyes. Jean couldn't stop the tears that flowed from his eyes as he moved as fast as his body would allow, the Egyptian underneath him matching his speed and intensity with desperate moans of his name.

"Close, close! Av-Av—Muhammad!" Jean cried out, uncaring if all of Cairo could hear him, bringing down a hand to furiously pump his own cock five times before he fell apart, cumming hard enough for his vision to go dark at the corners. Cum covered his chest and hand. His lover swore harshly in Arabic and mercilessly fucked him through his orgasm, milking his cock using the still pulsating walls of Jean's ass. Jean coaxed him to completion with moans of name, bringing his clean hand to place over one of Muhammad's as his partner's thrusts became jerky and uncoordinated as he finally came. 

Panting hard, Jean weakly shifted back to collapse against the other man's broad chest. The movement had Muhammad's cock slipping out just enough for them both to see the creamy white of his cum drip out of Jean's hole and rest as a stark contrast to the older man's dark skin. 

"Muhammad?"

"Yes?"

"I see us...and I don't, I don't want to lose this," Jean said, voice breaking, "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," the other promised, "I swear. You'll never lose me, Jean." 

By god, did Jean hope that was the truth.


	11. Makeup Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku   
CW: mentions of cheating, abuse, unhealthy relationships

A soft knock woke Izuku up from his light daze. He really should've been sleeping by now but it was...it was always harder the second night after a fight with his fiance. The first night was easy; a slammed door and he cried angry tears until he needed to change his pillow out for the spare one in the closet and then he was out like a light, exhausted mentally and emotionally from the pain and the worry and anger.

Or alternatively, he was protectively smushed between the Iida-Todoroki's, Shoto and Tenya curled around his smaller body to offer him understanding and comfort. And a few empty threats to the man who he loved most and yet who hurt him. Truly _hurt_ him. Time and time again. The man he kept crawling back to, the man he gave his heart (and his ring to) as a promise to not leave, to never stray, to always be there by his side.

It was never sexual with Shoto and Tenya. They were happy together, perfectly complete in each other's arms, but the three of them shared so much that they always, without fail, made just enough space for him between them. And it felt good, to be held. To feel their strength, their stability, their unwavering and pure love. Yet whether it took one night of that or twelve, inevitably Izuku would crave his own perfect slice of heaven like that. With the man who'd always be his first choice, his only choice really. And he'd go back to the apartment and he'd cry more and be comforted there with harsher holds and rougher hands and burning, biting kisses that bloodied his mouth and bruised his soul.

And then he'd wake up the next day without feeling lonely and useless and afraid and he'd let it all happen again. Each time never more prepared than the last no matter how many times 'Chako said he shouldn't let it go on any longer, no matter how many times Tsuyu uttered her quiet but firm croaks about finding someone healthier, no matter how many times All Might and his mother gave him looks of pity before he changed the subject to his latest run in with a criminal. It didn't matter, it never did.

Not when Kacchan promised him forever again. Held him tight to his chest. Said that he was sorry with his deep red eyes that seemed so, so genuine. This time I mean it, those eyes said, this time I won't hurt you ever EVER again. And because those good times were s_o good_, because the history was there, because Izuku wanted to believe in fate and human growth and the capacity for a person to change if they just tried...he fell for it. Fell for Kacchan. Over and over again. Helplessly. Foolishly. He just couldn't seem to stop falling no matter how many times he hit the ground.

This time had been different that the ones before, however. Kacchan had come home later, smelling of booze and a different cologne, walking with the swagger that meant he'd been satisfied in more ways than one. Something in Izuku had broken, shattering into jagged little pieces that were crunched underfoot with each step Kacchan had taken towards him, with each and every syllable of a drawled, slurred, "Babyyy, I told you not to wait up for me. Ya never listen to me. Marriage is all about list'ning, bout doing right by each other. Stupid Deku can't even get his ass in bed like I asked."

Izuku had only wanted to welcome Kacchan home after the man's long day fighting crime. Being a hero. He'd been planning to surprise Kacchan with some massage oil he'd picked up on his way home from getting groceries, had thought that it would be the perfect way for the other Pro to relax and unwind. Instead Kacchan had shown up and it was so painfully obvious that he'd finished work on time just so he could go out to...to...to who knows where!

And f...and fu—gods, Izuku couldn't even day the word in his own mind, too full of hurt. Too full of rage and pain. He'd left that night before Kacchan's lips could find their way to his own in his drunken stupor. And Tenya and Shouto welcomed him home. Their home. Not his. He clearly didn't deserve one. Homes were built on love and trust and devotion. All he had was a rented apartment with a liar and a cheat that wore the engagement ring Izuku had bought him on a necklace that never saw the light of day instead of his hand like Izuku wore his own. That should have said enough on it's own.

The knock repeated and Izuku clenched the duffle bag half-filled with clothes in his grip, trying to remain strong. Trying, trying, trying. That's all he ever did. Try, try, try. And fail, fail, fail. He worried his lips raw, ripped off a thin layer of skin and sucked the blood out of it. He mustn't do this again. He mustn't give in. Tenya and Shouto were waiting for him. He promised he'd be quick. He timed it perfectly so Kacchan wouldn't be there. And yet...the knock returned.

"Please, Zuku, I know you're in there. I just want to talk. I can e—"

"Explain? You always explain, Bakugou. You were wired from the earlier fight so you hit me as a reflex! You were pent up and your hearing aids weren't charged so you didn't realize you were activating your Quirk on me even when I said that it hurt and I begged you to stop! You didn't mean to laugh when I said that I wanted kids, you thought I was joking! You've got your mother's temper, you forget names easily so why wouldn't you forget anniversaries, you were drunk so you kissed Eiji even though he tried to push you off of him and he LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!" Izuku recited, voice turning panicked and distraught and breaking around sobs.

"There's always an excuse, Bakugou. Always! Always! I know all of them, just...just save your breath."

"...I'm...Deku, don't be like this, please. I know I messed up, you think I'm not hurting too? You think I'm not scared of losing the only good thing I've ever made with these fucking hands of mine? You think I'm not terrified of ruining the only relationship I ever fucked cared about, the only man—the only PERSON—that I've ever opened up to, ever trusted, ever loved?"

Izuku can't listen, he doesn't want to listen, but if he lets go of this bag to try and cover his ears then he's just going fail again and open the door. He can't open that door. He can't do this again.

"Please, Deku. Please. You know me; I'm shit at being vulnerable, I'm shit at communicating, at dealing with people. But I love you despite that. And you love me. It's all we've ever known. It's why we were made: to be together. You and me...baby...please, I'm sorry. I'm so—" a choked sob and Izuku's feet are already in motion slow but sure—"I'm so fucking sorry, Zuku. I love you so goddamn much. Please. Please don't do this. You're my one and only—you're my everything. You're my Deku and I'm your Kacchan, please, fuck, Deku baby, please! I'm your Kacchan! I am, please!"

And the door is opened and Izuku is crying so hard that he lets his mind trick him into thinking Kacchan's eyes are wet too, that he's serious this time, that couples have gone through worse than this and come out stronger than ever. That they're meant to be and destiny would not push them together if it wasn't right. That Kacchan wouldn't keep coming back if he didn't truly want to stay.

That if Izuku did better himself this time and listened like he should have, just been more trusting and understanding and gentle with Kacchan as the blond learned right from wrong that he'd be able to keep his fiance for the rest of his life. The rest of their lives. Izuku allows the duffle bag to be pushed to the floor, for himself to follow as Kacchan kisses him bruised and breathless, grinding his knee to Izuku's crotch and it hurts, it hurts, but it just means that Kacchan is desperate to make things right. Is desperate to make Izuku feel good.

So he focuses on the welcomed heat and the hands pushing under his shirt to grip his hips and the hardness of a strong body above him, the familiar weight of Kacchan's heavy cock resting on his thigh and rutting into him.

Izuku clears his mind of pain to fill it with Kacchan's warm, wet praises against the skin of his neck just before the man bites down and tugs out their cocks, pressing them together too tight and coating them in a mixture of spit and sweat that is as heady and freeing as it is dangerous because he knows the sound and taste and feel of an explosion from Kacchan and he could go off at any moment, he is a time bomb and Izuku knows better and the voice in his head is starting to sound like Tenya and if he listens close he can hear the sound of the doorbell ringing, ringing, ringing because Shouto is pressing it again and again and again, waiting, waiting, waiting, for an answer, for Izuku to come out with his things—Izuku shuts it all out with too loud moans, echoed by Kacchan nd his deeper grunts and groans.

He can't think. Izuku just can't think. And that's fine. That's easy. Because Dekus are all so very good at not thinking. And then there is a curse and a hand fumbling for lube from the dresser because there's no time, there's no time to get to the bed, there's no time to remove more clothes, there's no time, Kacchan needs him now so just let him in without it, okay? And he needs to feel you, Deku, he'll break without it, fuck the condom, he can't hold you right, can't get close enough, if it's in the way.

Tenya's voice is back in his head saying something about tests and not knowing who Kacchan was with before and Deku can't LISTEN to that voice, even if he knows it's good and right and trying to help him, trying to save him, because Kacchan is fucking him hard into the carpet and telling him how much he loves him, how no one else can compare, how they need to be together or they'll both end up alone forever, he loves you, he loves you, Kacchan loves his Deku, his pretty little Deku covered in hand-shaped bruises and rug burns and scratches and tears and sweat.

And when Deku finally cums, when he's allowed the mind-numbing release of ejaculation right when he feels the rush of Kacchan's own orgasm filling him, Deku's only words are of forgiveness.


	12. Selfcest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Twice|Bubaigawara Jin/Twice|Bubaigawara Jin  
CW: Knifeplay, bloodplay, violence, underage sexual content, choking, drugs

The first time Jin's lips connected with another's, he was twelve. His schoolmates had, without him knowing how, unanimously decided over the summer that kissing no longer gave one cooties. So the whole school seemed to be in a constant state of giggling and whispering and kissing under the cherry trees or behind the gym shed. Jin had friends and ever had a few girls call him cute, but for reasons he couldn't fathom he'd been left out of the loop. No one came up to pull him into the shade beside the school gate at the end of the day or promise a smooch if he won them a prize at the arcade. He realized—belatedly—that _he_ was supposed to be the one to do the kissing. 

Some dumb unspoken rule about boys and girls and kissing. He wanted to be kissed. Being bold about it wasn't appealing to him. But he couldn't stop the dark twist of slimy jealousy in his gut when yet another of his friends came in red-faced but smug. "Hina-chan confessed! I kissed her and she tasted like cherries!"

So Jin had come to the conclusion that he'd forgo the rules. Get his kiss a different way. Mochizuki had shyly told him that he'd practiced kissing on his hand and against his mirror. Jin could do better than a flat reflection; he had a Quirk! He'd just make a double.

It was just a quick peck. Soft, chaste, slightly warm, a bit chapped like his own. It was nice though. Jin got to join the ever-growing group of kissers. And his double did too. Even if he didn't tell anyone that part.

The second time Jin's lips connected with another's, he was fifteen. He'd been taken in by his employer and savior, the man who rescued him from being another statistic in a forgotten orphanage. He'd been grateful. He'd been foolish. He'd figured it was okay that Kuroda-san had only good intentions. Fatherly intentions. Something which Jin desperately needed after the deaths of his parents. A goodnight kiss didn't seem like an unreasonable request from the man that gave him food, shelter, a job to keep him focused and busy when the sorrow threatened to overwhelm him. 

Goodnight kisses turned into good morning kisses. Hugs that lasted longer than Jin thought they should. Touches to Jin's bared thighs and arms when he was lifting heavy boxes in loose tanks and shorts. Showers in the summer featuring Kuroda-san's _too_ warm, _too_ firm body behind him because they needed to conserve water. Panting in his ears as Kuroda-san's cock slid between his asscheeks and "_call me __otosan, sweetheart" _and Jin's skin was crawling but he was grateful, wasn't he supposed to be grateful to the man who'd saved him, the man who loved him, who taught him the rewards of hard work, who taught him how to suck and take cock like a fucking professional? WASN'T HE SO FUCKING GRATEFUL?! COULDN'T HE SHOW IT ON HIS FACE, TIGHTEN UP HIS ASS LIKE OTOSAN ASKED?!

Gradually, Jin's lips stopped connecting with Kuroda-san's. It was more common for his mouth to wrap around the head of the man's dick and suck. It was more likely for his lips to be spitting open as the back of the man's hand struck him, chunky rings cutting the delicate flesh and leaving messy smears of red behind. 

When the accident happened and Jin had seen his motorbike destroyed, his life flashing before his eyes, had seen that he was well and truly a cursed man doomed for a life of pain, he'd attempted to kiss Kuroda-san one last time. Tried his hardest to just give in and let himself fall in love with the guy who said he loved him back. Just give in and try and find his own version of contentedness in his fucked-up life where he couldn't trust anyone or anything not to want to hurt him, or ask for something from him that he didn't want to give. It was shit. 

But the fucker he hit knew Kuroda-san. Business partners or a friend of a friend or some shit. Regardless, Kuroda ended up kicking Jin's face in instead of accepting the kiss and tossing him out on the street. Jin was never good enough, you see? He was born wrong, somehow. That's why his friends never stuck around for too long. Why no one wanted to kiss him or hire him or love him...love him...why would anyone love a broken piece of shit like him? 

So Jin stopped caring about, well, everything. He was homeless, broke, alone. Until he decided he didn't have to be the latter. 

He had his Quirk. He already heard the nasty comments made about him for skulking around on the streets with his face in a permanent scowl. Saw the way people clutched their belongings closer to themselves as he passed by. Felt the smack of empty beer cans against the back of his skull when teenage joyriders felt the urge to get aggressive with the local freak. So Jin turned his life around and embraced the only one that mattered; himself.

He made three copies to start with. Identical in every way, they got his jokes and offered back ones of their own. They huddled against him for warmth on the cold nights. Helped him cause distractions at markets and shops to snag some grub. Provided protection when other's tried to encroach on his territory. Took the brunt of the aggression from drunken bastards looking to beat the shit out of someone weak and helpless. And eventually...he stopped being weak and helpless.

He added more doubles and was able to intimidate with numbers. Learned how to fight dirty by scrapping in messy, sweaty, bloody piles of himself. Got clever with knives, started sending his doubles out to take more than just a few cup noodles from the convenience stores. Watched them get bold with their actions. Start bringing in more money, fucking up strangers that looked at them funny, destroying things without him telling them to. He'd get his dick wet in some bimbo with low standards in a shit motel and hear one of his clones doing the same on the other side of the thin wall. 

But even that didn't have the appeal that he thought it would. He tried with guys too, curious, but nothing really felt right. And he realized that at least in terms of feeling good, nothing had been as sweet as that first kiss. He'd been chasing that high his whole life as a criminal. Hell, maybe even his whole life period. So he said fuck it. Fuck him. And proceeded to do just that.

It was everything he'd imagined and better. Sure his doubles roughed him up as much if not more than Kuroda had. Bit at his pecs hard enough to draw blood. Left bruises on his hips that seemed to get deeper and uglier by the day. Spitroasted him until he felt like there was more cum than water in his body and none of it was his own. Or well, technically it was his own. Huh. Kinky. And sure, sometimes a clone got a little too wild. Went behind his back and scored the kinda hard shit he wasn't all that into. Heroine. Meth. Cocaine. One idiot had the gall to do a line off of Jin's back before fucking into him. Asshole. He's pretty sure the meth-head snapped that one's neck though. Entirely by accident, of course.

Cuz his doubles weren't crazy. Right? Cuz if they were crazy that meant that Jin was crazy, right? And he wasn't. He was fine. He was fucking fine. Yeah he wasn't sure if he was really him sometimes or if he was another of those other ones but...but that shit didn't matter. Not in the long run. He was still alive. Still doing what he wanted to, still having fun.

...Sometimes he blacked out. On accident. On purpose. Choked himself with a double until his vision swam and his cock spurted all over the slowly bleeding shallow cuts on his thighs. Sometimes he fought more than he fucked, not resting until every inch of himself and a clone or two was aching and blackened with burst blood vessels. On bad days he and a copy stared each other down and reopened the split in their foreheads, letting the blood trickle down to make it easier to fuck into the other's fist. 

But if you asked Jin, whichever one you found at the time (because all of them were real and important and expendable and fakes and beautiful and hideous and perfect and broken beyond repair,) what made him happiest? It would probably be kissing himself. Since he was the only one who really knew how to love himself. How to make himself feel good. Feel cared for. No matter what, the kisses Jin shared with his doubles was always soft and sweet and gentle. Just like his first kiss. And if he had to pick a way to die, it'd probably be with his lips locked together with his final copy, a knife buried to the hilt into both of his hearts. He was a romantic after all.


	13. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Aoyama Yuuga/Midoriya Izuku

Izuku had done it. After months of looking over different locations and a few mildly uncomfortable days sleeping on the cots at the agency while the last minute finalizations were handled because Izuku didn't want to put out his friends of his mother any more than strictly necessary...Izuku had finally, _finally_ found the perfect apartment to call home. It was close enough to the Team Idaten agency that Izuku could walk to work, there was a wonderful little combined flower shop and cafe on the corner of his block that always smelled of the freshest flowers and homemade pastries. The train station was fairly close too, should Izuku want or need to visit his mother, and Ochako and Mina had a place just a couple of stops away too so he could visit them (and the two adorable puppies they were fostering) whenever.

He was happy with the wonderful place he'd found—even if the ceilings were a bit too low for some of his friends. Namely Shouji, Iida, Todoroki, and Kirishima, the latter who had grown to be nearly as tall as Fatgum in a surprising growth spurt their final year at UA. Coupled with his muscle mass, he looked absolutely massive and completely dwarfed Kacchan. Which Izuku found to be quite cute and endearing, especially when Kacchan got all angry and flushed over his inability to reach things like his boyfriend. Although the blond still liked to lord his two and half inches of height over Izuku's head, so it was only fair.

But regardless, Izuku really liked his new apartment! So he figured his first official night alone would there would be exciting and special, like his first night at the dorms! And in a way, he was right. It was exciting. Just not in the way he expected it to be. It started around 9 o'clock. He wanted to get up early to exercise and eat a good breakfast—and yes he'd practiced at his mom's place so that he wouldn't completely ruin his first meal at his new place, don't judge him for always burning his eggs in the past—so he figured he'd call it a day even if it wasn't all that late yet. And the he'd heard it. A knock on the door.

He'd gotten up, curious as to who would be there at this hour and not call first but perhaps it was a neighbor or the landlord. But when he opened the door just a moment later, no one was there. Odd. He looked up and down the hall and shrugged to himself, figuring that maybe it was someone who got the wrong apartment number and left. He grabbed a glass of water and headed back to his room, freezing in fear when he noticed that his window was open. He didn't recall opening it earlier, it was too cool outside tonight for his tastes.

Even now, the soft breeze chilled him in his loose sleep pants and goosebumps rose along his bare arms and chest. He felt too exposed and wired up, his ears and eyes straining for signs of something out of the ordinary—or rather someone—as he carefully set down his water and examined his room. Nothing seemed disturbed at first glance and though he readied his Quirk to swing at the slightest movement when he checked the adjoining bathroom and the closet, he didn't see or hear anyone. Having spent years with an invisible girl as a classmate and companion, though, meant he shouldn't rule anything out. Still, no one seemed to be around.

Just to be sure, he double-checked everything from top to bottom anyway, to make sure he wasn't missing anything. Only to find that he was. Nothing valuable really. Just...well...his hamper, with the clothes he discarded before bed? The undershirt he'd worn beneath his button up and his underwear were just....gone. Needless to say, after locking the window and both the bedroom door and the front door (with the deadbolt this time) Izuku didn't have a very good first night. But the next morning, Izuku sees the clothes are back where he put them before and chalks it up to first-night-alone jitters and the scary movie Ochako had made him watch last week.

Only, it kept happening. A knock late at night with no one at the door. Window open and letting in cool air. Sometimes Izuku didn't get up to answer the door and he'd wait inside his room, prepared for the intruder to arrive and not see anyone, yet have the spoon he used for his his yogurt mysteriously gone. His first assumption, however ridiculous, was ghosts. Leave it to Izuku to select the one and only haunted apartment. It explained the good deal he got on the place. First month free for early renters? More like first month free for idiots who were dumb enough to shack up with spirits.

It was a little under a month of this, three and a half weeks of terrible sleep and wondering if he should call someone or move or perform a seance with Mei, who'd recently developed an interest in the spiritual and the occult. Don't ask him why. And then, when he'd been taken back to his apartment by the Iida brothers, his exhaustion overwhelming him mid-brief in the morning, he woke up to a soft hum and a gentle hand petting his hair. He sighed, pushing up into the hand instinctually and was rewarded with a kiss. He snapped awake at that pressure on his lips and then a tongue was infiltrating his mouth and he could see silky blond hair and long lashes and he bucked forward.

The man pulled away and laughed, "Mon chéri! Do not be afraid. I simply wished to see you. I heard you were feeling unwell, my darling, so I came with gifts and much love. There's soup in the kitchen for later, but I predicted you would want to relax a bit first. I even got us some oils, they smell of lavender. To soothe you, sweetling." Izuku sputters in shock as Aoyama settled back on Izuku's hips and shook a bottle of massage oil.

"What—Aoyama-kun, how—who—why did—?"

"It's okay, mon petit nounours. Just relax. I know you've been so tense lately. Nervous all alone in this big new place. I tried to keep my distance at first but I couldn't help but want to be close to you and scare off your fears. You looked so scared and lonely, dearest. But I was busy with hero work, you know, and getting my things in order. I'll have my stuff delivered here soon. Wednesday is our off day, so we can unpack it all then if you are not too tired by then." Aoyama smiled wide, "I may want to nurse you back to health, my love, but that doesn't mean I can keep myself from indulging in you."

Izuku was so confused and really concerned about how Aoyama was the one breaking into his home and was apparently going to move in with him?? When had Izuku agreed to this??? _What the hell was the man talking about???_ But then Aoyama was shifting down and swallowing his cock, an oil lathered hand massaging his balls and prying open his hole—was he naked this whole time?!?!—and then Izuku was not really capable of thinking as he sobbed out his pleasure and thrust his hips up, Aoyama humming happily around the weight of Izuku's cock in his mouth. A muffled noise that might have been the phrase "good boy" was muttered around Izuku's cock and the vibrations had him moaning.

This was bad. This was wrong. He's pretty sure that Aoyama has committed several crimes, a few of them felonies, but well...Izuku is feeling really, really good. Like really REALLY good. Like Aoyama might have slipped him an aphrodisiac in his sleep good. So he doesn't really care about all of that so much as he cared about those fingers going deeper, pressing to his prostate firmly, and god, he wishes they were thicker, he wished he was being fucked properly, he really really really wants to be split apart on something long and thick, it can be the blond's fist or a damn squash from the fridge at this point just _please, please, pleaasseeeee_!!! He might have been babbling this. He definitely was.

And Aoyama, sweet kind doting Aoyama, gave into Izuku's messy pleas to be fucked by pulling back and shoving himself forward and oh, Izuku's legs are painfully bent, knees practically at his ears, but it's fine, it's okay, he's getting fucked! He's getting **fucked**! Aoyama is fucking him! Yes, _yes_, yes!! Ruin him for anyone else! Give him _more_, give him more, _make him scream!_ There's French in the air, in his ears, and it's such a pretty flowing language but now it sounds harsh and heavy and low and rough and _yes, yes_, yes, hnnnnngFUCK, fuck his ass, _fuck it_, Aoyama, Aoyama-kunnnn, _Y-Y-Yuugaaaaa!!_

...Izuku wakes up and his body is sore. But it's a good sore. It's the kind of sore you get after a good workout and it is so satisfying. Beside him is his lover, though he really should be more upset about that considering well...everything, and Yuuga smiles softly, lifting a spoonful of warm soup to his lips. It's delicious. The best he's ever had.

"Mon lapin, I meant to give you a proper massage but that'll half to wait until you've finished your meal. Sounds good, non?" And Izuku is tired but oddly settled. So he nods. Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.


	14. Piss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Demon Slayer  
Relationship: Hashibira Inosuke/Kamado Tanjiro  
CW: Piss/Omorashi

There had never been a real need to curb Inosuke's more animalistic behaviors in Tanjiro's eyes. It certainly caused a fair bit of problems when they conducted business with fellow slayers and humans, sure, but at the end of the day? Tanjiro respected and valued his friend just the way he was. Well...for the most part.

The big brother in him always feared the other teen would catch a cold wandering around with hardly any clothes on. Inosuke was quick to assuage his fears by emphasizing that his strong spirit—like any other beast's—kept the blood in his body running hot and no chill could ever snuff out the fire in his chest. Zenitsu had a slightly more realistic but much more rude way of easing Tanjiro's worry; he simply insisted that idiots didn't catch colds.

And okay, truthfully, Tanjiro was also rather perturbed by the lack of manners and sensitivity the boar-boy displayed. He was an exemplary wild pig when it came time to eat food, scarfing meals down like he'd never see another again and often making about as much mess as mountain lion would the carcass of an unfortunate deer. Inosuke was blunt and staunchly argumentative even on his best days, meaning that he often butt heads (generally speaking this was both a verbal _and _a physical act) with others when a gentler approach would have done much better. There were issues surrounding hygiene and culture too, that Inosuke gracelessly barreled through or stomped right over.

But still, Tanjiro knew that Inosuke had lived a hard life and was at his core a good being even if he didn't always act humanly enough to qualify as a good _person_. Inosuke was someone that Tanjiro greatly admired after all. Someone he was proud to call his companion. And many of the traits he appreciated in the other male were ones tied intrinsically to his bestial upbringing. In many ways, his flaws as a typical human were actually what made him so very wonderful as a man.

Inosuke's aggression, though mainly over-exaggerated and over-expressed, had a way of cutting to the heart of things. While everything couldn't and _shouldn't_ be solved with violence, Inosuke did admittedly have a keen sense for when words wouldn't do and action must be taken. Moreover, he didn't mince his words. Whatever popped into Inosuke's head at the time came directly from his mouth seconds later. It wasn't always something kind or pretty but Tanjiro knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was honest.

He didn't even have to use his nose to tell. His brutal honesty was actually pretty refreshing to Tanjiro, who had spent much if not all of his life trying to appease others with his words and doing his best not to make waves. Inosuke tended to take the words that Tanjiro privately thought and speak them into the world, causing issues but also alleviating some of the guilt that Tanjiro felt for thinking bad thoughts.

Inosuke was boorish (pun intended) but there was something charming about seeing the destruction he left in the wake of his one-man stampedes.

So really, Tanjiro didn't seem much harm in letting the other boy do as he saw fit. Even if it wasn't quite proper behavior for a typical human. 

...He didn't think taking that position would come to bite him in the ass, though.

See, after some time traveling together, fighting side-by-side or back-to-back, eating, laughing, learning, growing...Inosuke had come to the conclusion that Tanjiro was his mate. That in and of itself was not the problem. Far be it for Tanjiro to turn down the affections of a strong, handsome, capable demon slayer. Even barring the potential societal ramifications of a union between two males should they ever get the chance to settle down and live their lives out in peace, Tanjiro was incredibly fond of Inosuke and so no downsides to forging an even deeper bond with him.

Kissing him, waking up in his arms, allowing him to loudly boast to Zenitsu that they were mated for life and the blond was probably going to die alone because he was a whiny little runt—well, okay, Tanjiro _did _step in to curb some of Inosuke's more colorful insults and prevent Zenitsu from trying to stab his lover whilst crying for Nezuko not to hate him if he murder their mutual friend.

But it was honestly wonderful being with Inosuke those first few weeks. Exploring a new side of their relationship. Even exploring each other's bodies in the dead of night when the cicadas were loud enough to drown out some of Tanjiro's moans and the distant wolf calls masked the heavy grunts Inosuke made. It was good. It was real good. So of course it couldn't last. 

The slayer corps put them on different missions. Contrasting assignments meant to test their mettle when the other wasn't around. It was obvious how well they worked together but could they stand alone and still succeed? One would think they'd proved themselves plenty already but such was the way of things. Much to Tanjiro's chagrin. And Inosuke's rabid raging in the normally quiet Butterfly Mansion courtyard. 

The most interesting part of Inosuke's feral rant was his repeated insistence that if they spent too much time apart, his scent would fade from Tanjiro and some shitty weakling would try and take his mate. Tanjiro told him, of course, that he would never be swayed by another because his heart and soul belonged to Inosuke. His partner, after a soft moment of silent appreciation, promptly argued that Tanjiro was too good a mate and that he'd likely be hounded by a horde of beasts eager to impregnate such a wonderful sow.

Tanjiro was confusedly touched by the backhanded and obscure compliment. He was ALSO thoroughly upset that his lover called him a female boar, so he made sure to bash Inosuke's head with his own. Hard enough to knock the boy out for a bit so Tanjiro could compose himself.

The implication that he could carry children just because he was what? Paternal, thanks to his many years taking care of his younger siblings and now wrestling his peers into some state of presentability? Because he was a decent cook?? Because he was good with kids??? Because he repeatedly took it up the ass and enjoyed himself???? Stupid, inconsiderate, thick-headed pig! He was lucky to have Tanjiro, honestly!!

...ah, but the thought of holding a sweet little babe in his arms, one that had his hair and Inosuke's beautiful eyes...

A-Anyway, when Inosuke woke up from his forced nap, he started in again about scenting. And this time, Tanjiro took notice. It wasn't as if either of them had scent glands the way most animals did. Going days without bathing could surely leave them ripe but they didn't have a musk that specifically communicated to other creatures what belonged to them or anything. But, as Tanjiro sniffed and tuned out his lover's angry rambling, he realized that there was some truth in the boy's words. There was a...mingling of their scents. Tanjiro could tell there was something distinctly _Inosuke _wafting from him and vice versa. It made him blush when he realized it was the same heady scent as when their bodies were joined, if less potent and warm. And well...aroused.

Inosuke's rant gradually lost steam as he picked up on the way Tanjiro was seated and flushed and trying hard not to look at his bare chest. Tanjiro's attempts at being coy fell flat and soon enough _he _was laid flat on his back in their room with his boyfriend hovering over him and rock hard.

Tanjiro wasn't going to just let the man _suffer_. He wasn't that cruel.

Inosuke's teeth bit into the sensitive flesh of his lobe as he growled, "Gonna make sure my scent's all over you then. You better finish your job quick too, cuz I'll be done before the next moon, you hear me? And I'm gonna mark you _everywhere_. In front of every damn Hashira if I have to."

"Ah," Tanjiro moaned, shamelessly feeling up his lover's pecs and thrusting up to grind their cocks together, "yeah. _Yes_. Inosuke, just...please."

"Good," Inosuke grunted before he proceeded to rear back and pull down his pants. Tanjiro panted, fumbling with his own clothes until he was naked too, eyes locked on that thick uncut cock and the messy forest of dark hair it rose out of. Fuck, Tanjiro's eyes were already rolling back, the scent of that perfect dick overwhelming him. Inosuke's cock always smelled so damn good to him, the scent of his sweat and precum mingling into something powerful and deliciously rugged. Tanjiro loved having it in his ass, but he loved it in his mouth just as much, his nose buried in that thick patch of hair until all he could breathe was _Inosuke._

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, tongue lolling out, eager for Inosuke to do as he so often did and lube up his cock in Tanjiro's hot wet mouth. So imagine his surprise when he didn't feel the weight of that beautiful manly cock on his tongue but rather felt the peculiar burning heat of liquid splashing on his bare torso, cock, and thighs. An acrid scent filled the air and Tanjiro's eyes watered before they even opened again to stare agape at Inosuke fucking_ pissing all over him_. A harsh yellow stream of hot water shooting out of his cock as the boar boy moaned low and long. 

Tanjiro felt indignation, embarrassment, and rage wash over him in a wave that left him shaking. His fingers dug into the futon underneath him even as it grew wet with the sheer amount of piss spewing forth from Inosuke's cock and splashing down. Tanjiro's mind was wiped clean of all sensible thought, the scent of Inosuke marking him and their bed the way a beast would effectively taking up all the space in his mind. His skin was flushed, dripping wet, and sticky. He was absolutely _filthy _and entirely disgusted with everything. The fact that his traitorous cock was still hard, practically purple with the blood flowing into it as he panted and struggled to form words of contempt at his boyfriend was irrelevant. 

When the stream began to lessen and turn into weak dribbles, Inosuke grunted and gripped the head of his own cock. Shifting closer to Tanjiro—who was frozen in place in shock and most certainly not fascination or anticipation—Inosuke pressed his tip to Tanjiro's right cheek and squeezed just under his glands, milking himself of every last drop of piss and smearing the final golden droplets directly onto his lover's face. He smirked down at Tanjiro, "Better. No one's gonna mistake you for anything other than mine now."

The words finally snapped Tanjiro out of his trance and he glared, shoving hard at Inosuke's thighs. The guy didn't so much as budge, face smug, and Tanjiro was close to getting up and reaching for his sword to bash the hilt to Inosuke's stupidly beautiful pleased face when Inosuke moved on top of him to connect their lips. Tanjiro bit him out of spite but was somewhat mollified by the fact that Inosuke was essentially rolling around in his own piss as they fought for dominance of the kiss. "Sick...twisted...nasty...bastard—" Tanjiro spat out between messy painful kisses. Each time their lips met it was brutal, lips bruising and teeth bared. Like Inosuke, their kissing was feral. All mixed saliva and the hint of copper from where Tanjiro's teeth had broken the skin of his partner's bottom lip.

And despite it all, Tanjiro moaned into it when Inosuke's hand wrapped around their cocks and pumped them in unison. Just as fast and hard as the kiss. As the way they fought, both demons and (on rare occasions like this when Inosuke's pigheadedness pissed even the normally calm Tanjiro off) each other. A spare thought drifted through Tanjiro's mind about Inosuke dragging him down to the level of beasts but he couldn't find it in his heart to think that was an all-together bad thing even if he was seething, raging, burning, snarling into Inosuke's hot mouth, and cumming, cumming, _cumming_. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuckkkkk, _Ino_," Tanjiro whispered, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face when he felt Inosuke's lips skirt over his neck and then heard the boy gag at the taste of his own piss. Dumbass. Served him right. Inosuke glared at him but it came across more like a pout. Tanjiro was still pissed off and way too damn dirty to want anything more than to bathe and get a good rest in before he needed to leave for his mission but he summoned up a bit of energy to scoop up the mess of cum on their torsos and vengefully smear it directly onto Inosuke's parted mouth. 

The boar boy yelped and spit, trying to scrape it off his lips and tongue with his hands only to flail when he remembered that his dominant hand had piss and cum on it too. "What the FUCK, Monjiro?" Aww, he only fucked up his name when he was really flustered these days. 

"Now everyone'll know you're mine too," Tanjiro asserted with a bright laugh before sprinting away to get cleaned up, Inosuke practically nipping at his heels as he gave chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered that I accidentally skipped the noncon fic and I'm pretty sure it was because I lost my notes on a Muzan/Tanjiro idea for it. So I might make an attempt to do that again OR just pick a new pairing. We'll see.


	15. Shota/Loli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Dabi/Midoriya Izuku/Toga Himiko  
CW: underage sexual content, animal death, human death, grooming, drug use, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, bloodplay, cannibalism

Touya—no, he's Dabi now, he won't give that bastard the satisfaction of using the name he'd been given at birth—has been on his own since the age of fourteen. It was rough back then, real rough, even with his Quirk. Because he'd not know how shit worked out in the real world, out in the filthy underbelly of cities where heroes didn't tread.

He'd done shit he wasn't proud of, things he wanted to forget but couldn't so he focused on repressing them with booze and sex that left his (often strung out on some new bright candy-colored pill) partners bruised and raw and red from smacks...maybe a burn or two. But he was eighteen now and he knew how to handle himself. How to handle others, regardless of who they were and what they wanted from him. And people always wanted something from everyone.

The thing was, he was good at keeping himself alive, at maneuvering through the world without getting caught by heroes or dragged along in schemes he didn't give two fucks about or gods forbid, even more crap with that shitty asshole that contributed to a disgusting half of his own DNA. But he was only good at surviving because he took care of himself, always and _exclusively_. He didn't get dragged down by anyone.

Another body to look after, another mouth to feed, another life in his hands when he'd spend so many nights contemplating ending his own in a blaze of glory and pain...it just wouldn't end well.

He had some semblance of morality even now, after all he'd seen and done, and he didn't want to burn down some poor pathetic thing with him just because he was fucking lonely. But...fuck, was he lonely. He wanted to fill the void in him with something, anything, as long as it was a bit brighter than his own dark and twisted soul. And then he'd met **her**.

Blonde and doll-like, hair in two messy buns she probably did herself, eyes hazy in downright _orgasmic_ bliss as she drank blood greedily from a baby bird with a twisted wing and a broken neck, drops of red staining her frilly pink skirt as she absently swung back and forth in a swing on the playground at the crack of dawn.

He had to have her. And have her he did. Stalked forward with a smile like a cat, coaxing her not to run away in fear. She had been so scared at first, afraid she'd be beaten and punished for her actions. But Dabi simply smiled, too wide, the stitches in his mouth popping and causing blood to drip from the corners and _ohhh_, he'd gotten her attention then.

"You're like a broken toy," she said, eyes glued to where his face leaked little red rivulets.

"So play with me," he said simply, swiping a bit of his blood onto his thumb and holding it out to her, pleased when she stuck the offered digit into her mouth with a happy hum and a nod. He hadn't fucked her that night. But he'd brought her to the place he crashed at often enough to call a home of sorts and spent the whole night telling her stories of all the blood he'd seen and spilled since he'd freed himself from the tyranny of the "normal" world. Normal his ass.

But he'd fucked her the next night, let his tongue and fingers explore her tight little pussy, watch her get that same hazy look of pleasure as her body shook with its first real orgasm, her loud cries as she shuddered on the mattress all bathed in pretty blue shadows from his flames burning in the corner of the room. He had fucked her until his fingers were pruney and she came so many times that she faded between periods of cross-eyed, moaning consciousness and whimpering in her sleep.

How sweet she had been the next day, drinking apple juice from a sippy cup and dreamily telling him she liked sex as much as she liked blood and that she'd kill him—pry off every staple with her teeth and use a jagged knife to split him along the seams of each and every vein in his body—if he didn't fuck her again. It wasn't love he felt for her but **adoration** for her wildness, for her eager thirst for blood and pain and _cock_.

And even more so when she showed him her Quirk after months of living together, of creaming inside her tight cunt and swallowing the cries of pleasure from her small mouth. What a useful thing she was, playing the part of the innocent lost babe in the sketchy parts of town, Dabi in the shadows to burn the evidence when she'd sucked men and women dry and smeared the warm blood on her tiny chest as if to coax her breasts into swelling with some depraved ritual.

Using her Quirk to become just what Dabi needed at the moment, just who he wanted.

But of course, he mostly just wanted _her_. As she was. Plain, cruel, terrifying little Toga. His precious, perfect doll. And then, _then_, his sweet beautiful girl had disappeared on his twentieth birthday to return with a skittish little boy in tow. Messy green curls, a pair of deliciously plush lips, sweet freckles, a habit of mumbling about Quirks.

And this boy had been so easy to sway, just the dancing fire on the tips of Dabi's enough to get the boy fawning over him with bright eyes, eager to watch Dabi burn things—_people_—and play among the ashes as if it were snow.

How pure the boy seemed, giggling as he fingered himself with tiny little fingers, mouth open and begging for a rough fuck.

"Does your cum burn too? Show me, show me, _show me_. Cover me! I want to _feel_ it." Sweet, fantastic, darling Izuku and his fanatic love of powerful Quirks. He looked so gorgeous taking Dabi's cock in his ass, fingers sucking the cooling hand of a corpse he'd cut open with Toga to see if their Quirk could be taken out and consumed. It couldn't, but Izuku enjoyed the taste of fresh hearts just as well.

So yes, once upon a time, Dabi had been alone...But no longer. Not with his little sweethearts at his side.


	16. Breathplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: JJBA  
Relationship: Higashikata Josuke/Nijimura Okuyasu  
CW: breathplay, frottage, dirty talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know CaeJose is the obvious choice for breathplay but that's kind of low-hanging fruit (even though I love them so much and just, nnngh the horniness of Caesar fucking Joseph while he struggles to maintain steady breathing in that mask) but I really wanted to write Josuyasu because Okuyasu is the cutest.

"I'm just saying you should hit me, bro," Okuyasu stated plainly, making it seem like it was just logical for Josuke to beat him his best friend. Slouching a bit to get the entirety of his tall form in the window, Josuke stopped walking for a moment and leaned towards his reflection in order to fix up his hair.

Normally the product he used was enough to keep it in place but he was running low on the pomade he preferred and hadn't had the chance to pick up more yet. Meaning he had to supplement his daily routine with gel and increased amounts of hair spray. It didn't really hold up as well and now he had to fuss with his beautiful locks twice as much to keep himself looking sharp. 

Josuke straightened up and continued walking, Okuyasu falling into step beside him as the taller boy scoffed lightly in derision, "Oku, I'm not gonna hit you. You're my friend."

"And sometimes friends deserve to get hit," Okuyasu retorted. His voice had grown louder and it earned them both some pointedly displeased looks from the other townsfolk out and about this afternoon. Okuyasu noticed and let out a soft '_tch!_' as he dug his fists deeper into his pockets, mouth pursing a bit. Josuke sighed and shifted just a bit closer to his friend, allowing their upper arms to brush in a silent show of support. Yeah, he and Okuyasu had a bit of a reputation for looking like delinquents but Josuke knew firsthand how sweet Okuyasu was.

The other teen had a heart of gold. He'd taken in Stray Cat without a second thought despite the Stand nearly killing them a half-dozen times back when Kira was still a threat to Morioh's peaceful landscape. Okuyasu was also a lot more sensitive to other's moods and their perception of him than most gave him credit for. Josuke knew that those dirty looks probably weighed heavier on Okuyasu than they did on him so he tried his best to cheer up his buddy. Okuyasu glanced at him at the touch and when Josuke smiled, the other returned it, if not quite as brightly.

Which was a bit of a bummer cuz Josuke thinks Okuyasu has the cutest fucking smile in the whole town. Probably the world. Not that he'd tell his bro that! Like they were close friends and had gone through so much together but...well even Josuke figured telling your bro how freaking adorable he was likely wasn't super bro-like. That was the kind of thing you said to your sweetheart. Not your best friend. Even if a part of you really, really, _really _wanted your best friend to **be **your sweetheart.

That also happened to be one of the major reasons why Josuke didn't want to hit Okuyasu. Aside from the obvious. Because if he had even the slightest chance that Okuyasu could ever return his feelings one day, he didn't want to ruin it by punching the guy's lights out with Crazy D or something.

Okuyasu huffed and bumped his shoulder firmly. "Okay but like what about like a slap or something?" he continued the earlier conversation at a more reserved tone.

Why wouldn't this dude just let it go?

"Okuyasu I already told you I'm not mad about what happened. It was my fault anyway for jumping in the damn river." 

"Yeah but you only did that because my stupid ass dropped my wallet," Okuyasu replied, surly and upset with himself.

"Oi, you're not stupid. And it was an accident. If anything, I'm the dumb one for not sending Crazy D out to grab it." It hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd taken one look at Okuyasu's morose face and practically threw himself into the water. Just to wipe that frown from his friend's face and maybe look cool for being the one to rescue the wallet. Yeah, he had it _real_ bad for the other guy.

"Well, then I shoulda just used The Hand then so yeah, I'm a dumbass."

"Dude I'm gonna hit you for real if you keep talking yourself down like that. That's my best damn bro you're trashing," Josuke replied with a frown of his own. It hurt him when his friend was hard on himself like this. Even moreso when Josuke realized just how deeply he felt for the Nijimura boy. Josuke knew better than anyone else just how kind, smart, and determined Okuyasu could be when his heart was in it.

The guy was loyal, strong, brave and like _painfully_ good-looking. On their first meeting, Josuke had kinda dug the boy's modded clothes and cool hair but knowing him for so long just made him appreciate all of Okuyasu's appearance.

His warm tan skin. His full pouty bottom lip. That strong jaw, his sharp cheekbones. How damn expressive his face was. His firm body and broad chest. A trim waist that was perfect for Josuke to wrap his arms around. Those thin scars on his handsome face just begging for Josuke to kiss them...

The point was that Josuke knew his friend was damn near perfect and he didn't like it when people were too blind not to see that. Okuyasu included.

"I just feel bad," Okuyasu said, hanging his head in shame, "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn'ta cut up your leg on that jagged rock or gotten that cold and missed school." 

"It was no biggie. I kicked the cold in like two days. And my leg doesn't even hurt anymore, plus now I got another cool scar! Chicks dig scars, dude," Josuke said with a grin and a saucy wink. He inwardly wondered if Okuyasu thought the few scars he had from scraps with Stand users were cool too.

Not that he thought Okuyasu was like a chick or anything but just, well, it'd make him feel good if Okuyasu thought he looked badass. The guy had called him handsome before and Josuke had been over the moon. Hell, he _still _thought about it. Cuz like did he mean handsome in a general way or handsome in like an 'it'd be fine if you kissed me' kinda way? He really hoped it was the latter. 

"You're already cool, Josuke," Okuyasu said matter-of-factly and Josuke coughed to hide the flush in his cheeks. "You're like the coolest dude I know. Well like you and Jotaro-san." Josuke nodded; Jotaro-san _was _pretty damn cool.

"But like...I dunno. I mean, if I messed up like that before," Okuyasu continued, "Keich—" He cut himself off, eyes downcast as he cleared his throat. "I just, I woulda taken a beating, ya know?"

Bringing up Keicho always gave Josuke some really mixed feelings. One the one hand, the guy had nearly killed him AND Okuyasu and managed to create dozens of enemies for them both by shooting every other damn thing in Morioh with the Stand Arrow. No love lost there, yaknow? And it was worse knowing that the blond had been so hard on Okuyasu (and Nijimura-san) for years, the lingering effects of verbal, emotional, and physical violence against the two easily witnessed even now. So Josuke kinda really hated the guy and thought he was a bastard. 

But at the same time...he knew that it was still Okuyasu's brother. And there had been love there, once upon a time. Keicho had looked out for Okuyasu in his own way and from what his friend had told him of their past, Keicho had been really gentle with Okuyasu before their lives were all messed up by DIO's influence on their father. Okuyasu's heart and head had to be twice as mixed up as Josuke's was in regards to Keicho but at the end of the day, it was obvious that Okuyasu had loved his brother dearly. And still did. He missed him. He was still grieving, quietly. And even though Josuke couldn't take his pain from him, he could at least be a good understanding friend and show support. Still...

"Yeah, I get what you're saying, dude...you know you don't always have to punish yourself, though, right? Like...you're a real good guy Oku. Real good. And I know I can't convince you that it wasn't your fault cuz you're stubborn—"

"Hey!"

"I am too, it's whatever," Josuke continued, "but even if you wanna take blame for it, I ain't gonna hit you cuz you're still a good guy. Even if you make a few mistakes."

They'd reached Josuke's place and he opened the door, ushering them both in. Okuyasu normally spent a few hours (or even the night) at Josuke's since they lived so close anyway. Just so long as Okuyasu didn't leave his dad or Stray Cat alone for too long, he didn't mind keeping Josuke company before his mom got home from work. She'd told him earlier it was gonna be another late day and sure enough, there was a note on the fridge telling him to reheat the curry leftovers since she likely wouldn't get back before 10 or so.

Okuyasu stripped off his jacket and Josuke took a moment to appreciate the size of his biceps. The bit of cleavage visible thanks to the low-cut of the purple undershirt he wore. It probably was against the bro code to start at your bro's tits but if they were gonna be displayed so nicely like that, Josuke _had _to look. Okuyasu set their bags down, showing off the definition of his back, and Josuke decided he was in desperate need of a drink. 

"Besides," Josuke went on after clearing his throat and snagging some sodas from the fridge. He gestured for Okuyasu to head to the living room and set up the game system, "we both know I'd totally destroy you in a fight anyway."

Okuyasu let out a bark of a laugh, "Ha! As if bro! Crazy Diamond might have gotten one up on The Hand before but there's _no way_ you could win if we were fighting er, well, hand-to-hand." He made a show of looking Josuke up and down, "You're strong as hell but pretty boys like you always get their asses kicked by tough guys like me."

It was Josuke's turn to laugh even as he inwardly swooned at being called pretty by his crush, "Uh, sure. Have you seen these guns, Oku?" He tossed off his long jacket and flexed his arms. "Plus I have a good two centimeters on you, so my reach is better." He punched the air in front of him, mimicking the fast straight jabs that Crazy D and Star Platinum used in order to look tougher.

Okuyasu shook his head, smiling, "Nah. Height doesn't mean anything compared to experience. I had years tusslin' with Keicho and the rough kids. I'm like, scrappy. I fight dirty, dude. Can't beat that."

"Scrappy. More like crappy," Josuke joked and Okuyasu raised an eyebrow. Things were quiet between them save for the sound of the title screen of the fighting game Okuyasu had queued up. The air could be cut with a knife.

Josuke wasn't sure who moved first but one minute they were sizing each other up and the next they were both on the floor, rolling around to try and get the upper hand in an impromptu wrestling match. They were gripping each other's hands (and the romantic in him crowed in victory for essentially getting to hold the guy's hands) and ground their foreheads together.

Despite fighting relatively seriously, they bore matching grins that spoke to the amount of fun they were having and the trust they put in each other. They weren't truly trying to hurt one another but a playful fight with a friend was always good now and then. Especially between two teen boys with too much energy to burn after spending hours sitting down in classes. They let go of each other's hands (which Josuke tried not to feel too disappointed about) and started to push and lightly beat their fists against each other instead.

Josuke felt an elbow suddenly dig into his stomach and he cursed. Shit. Fighting dirty was right. That actually kinda hurt. His face scrunched up in pain and he flinched a bit. Okuyasu took the opportunity to flip them so that he was on top of Josuke's chest, grabbing his friend's wrists and pushing them to the floor, pinning them down with hands as his knees settled in like a cage around Josuke's shoulders. Josuke let out another string of curses but they came out weak and strained as Okuyasu settled his 80kgs on the upper half of Josuke's chest. 

"Ha! Told you I'd win," Okuyasu hollered in victory, "you like my secret technique, br—?" He was smirking down at his opponent but his words faltered when he saw Josuke's face. The guy was beet red, eyes glazing over with something indescribable and he was puffing hard through his nose. Fuck, shit, he's probably choking the guy with his thighs, _fuck!_

Okuyasu tried to shift backward but only succeeded in making Josuke whine pitifully when Okuyasu's hand—in an attempt to find purchase to help him lift himself up off his friend—landed square on Josuke's crotch. Or more accurately, the stiff erection there. Okuyasu let out a yelp, thighs tightening instinctively, and Josuke made a choked noise and a deep muffled groan reverberated from his chest. Okuyasu could _feel _the sound from where he sat and he felt his face burn. He splayed his legs out to give Josuke a chance to breathe, scrambling to adjust his own positioning as he felt his body react.

Moving back just made it worse, though, his ass now firmly pressed to the rock hard tent in Josuke's pants. Josuke let out another groan and gripped Okuyasu's waist tightly, teeth clenched. "Stop. Fucking. Moving." 

Okuyasu squeaked out a yes, freezing in place.

"Uh. Um, s-sorry, Josuke. I, I got kinda carried away and I didn't think. I never think! I'm so sorry dude!" he started apologizing in a heated rush. "I'm so fucking stupid. I didn't—you—I only meant—I didn't mean to make you HARD!"

Okuyasu slapped his hands down onto Josuke's chest, leaning down as he hurried added, "Not that I did! I mean, you're not hard for me! From me? Because of me, like, I just—fuck!" He was getting too worked up and started actively crying now as he whined out all his confusion and hopelessness in a drawn-out version of his friend's name, "_Josukeeeeeee_."

And Josuke looked up at his weepy-eyed best friend, his crush, the guy seated on his fucking dick like Josuke was a chair made just for him and it all just came out.

"Okuyasu this is for sure because of you and I'm pretty sure you just awakened a kink in me that I didn't even know I fucking had." Okay so...less romantic than the confessions he'd generated in his head over the past few weeks. There was definitely way more erections than he had considered cuz that had always seemed like something to come _after _the confession. Like a good three dates in, at least. Maybe even a month or two.

Wait, erections? Was...was Okuyasu hard too? When the hell did that happen? WHY the hell did that happen?

Without really thinking, Josuke moved a hand to poke at the bulge in Okuyasu's pants and the boy choked on his own spit, sputtering and pushing Josuke's hand away.

"D-Dude!"

"Why are you hard?"

"Why are YOU hard?!" Okuyasu retorted.

"Cuz my hot friend choked me with his sexy thighs and keeps grinding on my dick! Why are YOU hard?!"

"Cuz MY hot friend's dick is fucking huge and it's hitting my ass! Who the fuck are you calling sexy?!"

"You!"

"No, you!"

"No, YOU!"

"NO, YOU!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK ME!"

"GLADLY!!"

"YEAH! Wait, wha—?" Okuyasu began before he was unceremoniously slammed to the floor, Josuke hovering over him like a panther. His pomp had been loosened in the fight and deflated entirely now with all the extra movement, causing wavy dark hair to fall all around his face in a curtain of soft silky tresses. He caged Okuyasu in place with arms on either side of his body and leaned in until their lips were nearly touching. 

Josuke panted out, the warm breath hitting Okuyasu's flushed face as the Nijimura boy shakily brought his hands up to touch that beautiful hair. Josuke sighed out in contentment and finally connected their lips, kissing Okuyasu softly. His nose was smooshed against Okuyasu's cheek. Okuyasu hummed into the kiss and tried to prop himself up on his elbows to align them better and deepen the kiss. It helped a bit but it also aligned their hips as well, making both of them shiver and moan. Josuke pulled away to look at his friend—lover?—with hazy blue eyes.

"Fuck. You're so fucking beautiful like this, Oku," he whispered, rolling his hips into his partner's to watch the other throw his head back and grunt. 

"Nngh, n-no. Don't, don't say shit like that. You're the pretty one, Josuke," Okuyasku said, trying and failing to hide his blush. He'd always thought Josuke was attractive but up close like this? With his hair a mess and his eyes full of warmth and lust and love? He was downright illegal.

"You don't even know, babe," Josuke went on as if Okuyasu hadn't spoken, "you don't know how many times I thought about this." He gripped Okuyasu's hip roughly and shifted to grind his thigh against his buddy's hard-on while shamelessly humping Okuyasu's own thigh. Okuyasu cursed loudly and his rough voice breaking around profanity as Josuke pleasured him made the taller teen want to cum right then and there. 

"Went through half a bottle of lotion thinking about this mouth," Josuke said, swiping his thumb over Okuyasu's bottom lip before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it, kissing his friend hotly. Okuyasu's eyes were teary for a whole new reason now as he weakly pushed at Josuke's chest and rut up into the pleasure his lower half was receiving. 

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, bro!" he whined, embarrassed, and turned on, and shamefully close just from a bit of dry humping and wet kisses.

Josuke felt like he was in his element now, though, and there wasn't anything that could flip his switch back off. He mercilessly ground his leg against Okuyasu's cock and flashed a dangerous smirk, "Make me."

"Wha—mmnngh, fuck, shit_shit_shit, Jo-Josu—what?"

"Make me, Oku," Josuke purred darkly and grabbed one of Okuyasu's hands to bring it up to his own throat. "Shut me up. _Choke me_."

Okuyasu sputtered a protest but Josuke just guided the other's hand to wrap around his neck just beneath his jaw. Okuyasu cautiously tightened his hand and felt Josuke's dick throb against his leg.

"That's it, baby," Josuke praised, voice pitched a little higher with less air getting into him. Josuke's pretty blue eyes were practically swallowed by the black of his pupils and Okuyasu keened as the other boy pressed down into his hand and started thrusting his hips **hard**. 

Fuck, fuck, Josuke was panting heavily as he kept his eyes locked on Okuyasu and fucked himself against his best friend's leg like a dog in heat. Okuyasu bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood as he ground up and did his best to match Josuke's furious pace. "Josuke, Josuke, _Josuke_, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!"

"_Do it_," Josuke breathlessly said, eyelids fluttering as his eyes rolled back and his own hips stuttered.

They came almost in unison, Okuyasu's hand tightening harshly around Josuke's neck for a split second before falling away completely as the rest of his body tensed up and he came in his pants with a soft "uhh!" like he'd just been punched in the gut. That was honestly kind of exactly how he felt, this entire experience so unexpected and intense. Josuke shivered above him and collapsed onto his chest, cumming harder than he ever had before and feeling boneless in the aftermath.

Okuyasu's hands tentatively rested on Josuke's back as his friend took in heaving gulps of air, smoothing up and down in a soothing fashion while they both processed everything. 

"...Um, bro?"

"Y...yeah, dude?"

"How are we gonna explain this to Tomoka-san? Cuz I'm pretty sure you're gonna bruise from that and Crazy D can't fix you."

"...well fuck."


	17. Cockwarming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: BNHA  
Relationship: Endeavor|Todoroki Enji/Midoriya Izuku  
CW: exhibitionism

A knock resounded in the room and Endeavor sighed heavily; he'd been working on...bettering himself lately, and that meant subjecting himself to situations and people he would have previously been short with or outright ignored. So his many interns and sidekicks tending to intrude more often to bother him these days. He supposed it...brightened the place up a bit. Though it was infuriating to hear some of his more bubbly employees excitedly babble about their lives.

Speaking of excited babble, he was pleased to note he'd found a way to stem the flow of Midoriya's endless stream of words. A method Enji rather enjoyed exercising on days like this that dragged out too long and threatened to fray his already thin patience. It had been a very rough morning, no action, just all paperwork and meetings. He detested paperwork. And meetings.

But he had made a promise to himself to try and expand his tolerance for things and people. Still, interruptions certainly didn't help improve his mood. He's trying. He really is. For the world. For his family. For Shouto in particular, though all of his children and his wife deserve to see a lot of change from him. Along with apologies.

However, when Enji asks the person to come inside, he's pleasantly surprised to see his beloved son. "Shouto," he says, inclining his head.

Beneath his desk, the gentle pressure around his cock increases minutely as the mouth on him begins to suck lightly. Little minx. Such a pervert, getting off on an audience. Of the boy's own best friend and fellow intern no less. Enji lets the temperature of his thighs rise a few degrees as an admonishment; Midoriya should know better than to make this time about himself and his own pleasure. He's but a tool of relaxation for Enji right now, a way to unwind and keep his temper checked as he deals with forms and schedules and budgeting.

Enji's got a thick cock that stretches Midoriya's mouth wide even without being hard and like this, he pushes the boy to his limits. It's good training for the boy. Not only does it keep the boy focused but it hones his patience as well as it hones Enji's. With a face that sweet, lips so pink and full and wet, throat so tight and greedy for cock, for cum, it's extremely difficult for the man to not brutally fuck that pretty little mouth until Midoriya is raw and sobbing.

Even worse, Enji knows exactly what that image is like, has had this boy right on top of this very desk and seen how good he looks all fucked out and blissful. But Midoriya can only learn so much like that and Enji can't let himself overindulge. It's not as if he'll have him forever.

"I wanted to give you my latest reports on the patrol with Burnin' and ask if you'd seen Midoriya around anywhere." Another suck and Enji turned up the heat, making the boy stop and let out a soft whine just barely audible around the thick weight in his mouth. Shouto didn't appear to hear it. Enji idly wondered what his son's reaction would be if he knew just where his friend was and what he was doing.

"Very good. Go ahead."

He sat back slightly in his chair, the signal for Midoriya to pull off until only the tip of Enji's cock rested between his lips. It was both a reprieve and yet twice as teasing for both males, that little hint of pleasure on Enji's sensitive tip. Midoriya wanting so desperately to flick the slit with his tongue and coax out burning hot cum. Delicious torture for them both.

Shouto began to go through the events of his day, tone fairly flat but thankfully not showing the obvious disdain and hostility of previous visits to Enji's office. Small steps forward. But steps forward nonetheless. Enji was grateful. He absently ran his hand through Midoriya's curls, knowing that the boy had done a lot to change both himself and his son. He owed him a great deal.

And Enji repaid what was given to him. Fifteen or so minutes later, Shouto finished his report and Enji directed him vaguely to where he knew Bakugou was, knowing that he'd be sending Midoriya that was soon enough. Shouto gave him a small nod and left. As soon as the door shut behind him, Enji pulled out of Midoriya's mouth and hushed he boy when he let out a soft moan of displeasure.

"Ten more minutes on my cock. No more, no less, you hear me boy?"

The boy nodded and Enji slid his chair back, looking pointedly at his own lap and biting back a smile of approval when Midoriya scrambled to pull down his pants and slip Enji's cock inside his ass with a happy sigh, his precum-stained jockstrap pulled just enough to the side for him to sit down on that massive dick.

"Count the seconds, Midoriya." The boy nodded, a dreamy smile on his face as he settled against Enji's broad chest, lips twitching every thirty seconds around the time he had left. Enji hummed and slid his chair forward again to return to his work, appreciating the boy's short stature. It allowed for Enji to easily look over his body at the papers on his desk.

...Well, maybe Enji could do with another few years of this one on his team. He'd much rather add Midoriya to his roster of sidekicks than see the boy sent off to some other, lesser hero. And it would take ages to find another that could warm his cock the way Midoriya could—even taking it inside was a feat not many could manage. Although that blond with the explosive sweat would fit his flame-related criteria more.

Enji signed another page and set it aside, definitely something for him to think about, that's for sure.


	18. Nah Dudes

Turns out this ain't my kind of deal. I do like writing oneshots and all but something about the kinktober setup (coupled with my irl work and all that jazz) made sure this collection never got properly updated. So I'm leaving it as it is and calling it finished. I'll definitely still write other pieces, perhaps even including the ideas I had for the other prompts but this is abrupt--if long-awaited--end to MnstrCutie's kinktober collection. 


End file.
